


Goldenrod

by AliceinHyruleBastion



Category: Persona 5
Genre: (sorta) - Freeform, Flower meanings, French!Akira (I'll explain in the notes), Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, M/M, Minor spoilers as this takes place between the sixth and seventh Palaces!, Texting!, Violence, lemme know if I need anything!, playing with the actual social link cards I dunno, tags may update as it goes on??
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-09
Updated: 2017-08-16
Packaged: 2018-11-12 02:23:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 28,289
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11152215
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AliceinHyruleBastion/pseuds/AliceinHyruleBastion
Summary: Akira Kurusu bears the physical marks of the bonds he's made with his confidants, little scars of the Arcana they represent.They're more than just scars, however.His heart is put to the test when one of his teammates collapses alone in an alley for no apparent reason, and must face his feelings that he's locked away.If he doesn't, then he'll lose his Fox.





	1. Goldenrod

**Author's Note:**

> Heeeeeey y'all!  
> I'm back with somethin' kinda weird, so hold on.  
> first thing-  
> this will be my first chaptered thing, hopefully at three chapters, so we'll see how that goes!  
> Second thing-  
> I'm using the headcanon my friend and I came up with in which Akira is half-French, meaning he does speak fluent French. Along with that, Arsène ONLY speaks to him in French, so directions/commands Akira gives follows that! (There's also another who knows French but well you'll see) French dialogue will be fully italicized WITH quotation marks, while Akira's thoughts/Arsène's dialogue will be in italics with NO quotation marks.  
> Third thing-  
> I played with the idea of physical cards able to be manifested via Akira that he can use to check his confidants. In addition, Akira has little scars/marks in the shapes of the Arcana symbols that form when he makes a bond. These both will be fully explained within the story itself, but if you have any other questions please let me know!!
> 
> Sorry for the long note, but I hope you enjoy! As always, comments and critiques are highly appreciated!
> 
> ALSO!! Please notice this is tagged as "Graphic Violence"!! Though I will let you know which chap that applies to (not this one!) PLEASE heed it!

_[_ **_Goldenrod_ ** _\- For many, these bright blooms symbolize_ **_encouragement_ ** _and_ **_growth_ ** _. They may be given to show support after a loss or in a difficult time. It is often thought that these flowers can help reduce depression._

_Another popular meaning is that this flower can bring_ **_good luck_ ** _. It can be used in bouquets wishing good luck or_ **_fortune_ ** _to others. It can be combined with other flowers that stand for good luck.]_

 

In the backstreets of Shibuya, long after night had fallen and the trains had closed for the evening, a boy collapses in a back alley out of the blue. With no rhyme or reason, he simply froze, placed a hand almost calmly- disbelievingly - over his chest, and fell face first to the concrete, his bag opening and spilling his materials everywhere. 

 

That night was a cool summer in June, and a cold rain had settled in for the weekend, and drenched both the boy and a well-beaten sketch book that lay open just beyond where it had fallen from his bag, smearing and blurring the traces of frustrated watercolors that line its pages.

 

Until Sunday morning, when a man walking his dog had found him lying in that alley, no one had found him.

 

He'd collapsed Friday evening.

 

 

\---

 

**Akira** ( _11:15_ )

Hey, does anyone know if Yusuke got home safe?

**Akira** ( _11:15_ )

Haven't heard from him since we all left.

 

**Ann** ( _11:16_ )

It's 11 o'clock, why are you texting us??

 

**Akira** ( _11:16_ )

It's Friday night

**Akira** ( _11:16_ )

Not like you were doing anything anyway

 

**Ryuuji** ( _11:18_ )

ooh sick burn

 

**Ann** ( _11:19_ )

shut up Ryuuji

 

**Akira** ( _11:20_ )

Anyway

**Akira** ( _11:20_ )

Has anyone heard from him at all? He said he was gonna walk home, and it was already pretty late...

 

**Futaba** ( _11:21_ )

Nope, not a peep.

**Futaba** ( _11:21_ )

What, you worried about him? ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

 

**Ann** ( _11:23_ )

( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

 

**Akira** ( _11:24_ )

Well yeah

**Akira** ( _11:24_ )

Don't want him getting attacked by some random dude in an alley or something

 

**Futaba** ( _11:25_ )

y'all he's too chill for teasing

**Futaba** ( _11:26_ )

#foiledagain

 

**Ann** ( _11:26_ )

But seriously, no one's heard from him? He normally tells us, especially you Akira.

 

**Ryuuji** ( _11:27_ )

Nothin' on my end either

**Ryuuji** ( _11:27_ )

Y'sure you didn't miss a message or somethin' from him?

 

**Akira** ( _11:28_ )

Absolutely certain.

**Akira** ( _11:36_ )

I'm... worried, guys.

**Akira** ( _11:36_ )

Like, he'll go on art sprees where he'll forget to respond sometimes for like hours at a time

**Akira** ( _11:37_ )

But something doesn't feel quite right.

 

**Ryuuji** ( _11:38_ )

nah, don't overthink it man

**Ryuuji** ( _11:38_ )

he's probably just bein' his weird art self or just passed the fuck out once he got home or somethin'

 

**Akira** ( _11:42_ )

Maybe.

 

**Makoto** ( _11:44_ )

While I too am also worried about Yusuke, I do wish to remind you that we still have class tomorrow morning.

 

**Futaba** ( _11:45_ )

party pooper

 

**Ryuuji** ( _11:46_ )

you don't even go to school

 

**Futaba** ( _11:48_ )

My sentiment stands nonetheless.

 

**Makoto** ( _11:50_ )

I'm serious guys, get some rest.

**Makoto** ( _11:50_ )

I'm sure he'll be fine.

**Makoto** ( _11:51_ )

See you all tomorrow morning.

 

**Ann** ( _11:52_ )

aw, you're no fun

**Ann** ( _11:52_ )

'night guys, see you tomorrow

 

**Ryuuji** ( _11:54_ )

night

 

**Futaba** ( _11:56_ )

Have fun at school tomorrow guys!

 

**Ryuuji** ( _11:57_ )

ugh you suck

 

**Futaba** ( _11:58_ )

yes that's why you all love me

 

**Akira** ( _12:02_ )

Goodnight guys.

 

 

Akira locked his phone with a sigh and dropped it next to him before tugging his blankets up. He rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands, half out of frustration and half out of exhaustion.

 

From his perch on Akira's left thigh- his other knee was bent next to it, dragging the fabric of his blanket up- Morgana hummed. "I'm sure he's fine, Akira. It was a late Mementos run, so he probably fell asleep once he got home."

 

With a huff of resignation, Akira dropped his hands and slid his knee back down, staring blankly at the slats of his ceiling as white spots danced in his eyes. "Yeah, I'm probably just overreacting. I'll call 'im tomorrow after school."

 

Morgana yawned loudly and curled up in the now-rumpled sheets. "Sounds good. Now go to sleep; I can't get comfy with all your wiggling."

 

Akira scratched Morgana's ears and was rewarded with a pleased purr. The sound was a patch of warmth in ice of his worry, and he decided to try and shelve his anxiety for the time being, curling into his pillow and closing his eyes.

 

He tried to ignore what felt like a snap like a lightbulb exploding and a flash of heat just over his heart, ignoring the feeling that seemed if he so much as breathed or moved just wrong the shards of glass would impale his lungs and his heart.

 

\---

 

Come Sunday morning (or rather Sunday _afternoon_ ) Akira has trundled down the stairs half asleep until he plunked himself down at Leblanc's bar, mumbling a jumbled "Good morning" to Sojiro and Futaba, who was in the bar seat to his right tapping away at something on her phone. Luckily, no one was in yet, so the shop remained quietly empty, the only sounds the coffee machines bubbling and the hum of the fridge fighting over the bubble of voices from the TV.

 

"Rough night?" Sojiro chuckled as he slid a fresh cup of coffee to Akira, who gave a soft "thanks" before drinking it.

 

"Still haven't heard from Yusuke yet, huh?" Futaba asked.

 

_“Yusuke”. Not “Inari”. She must be just as worried as I am._

 

Akira shook his head. "No, not yet," he answered, setting down his coffee before scrubbing a hand through his sleep-snarled hair. "He's been radio silent since Friday night."

 

"Have you tried checking his house?" Sojiro suggested.

 

Both Akira and Futaba shook their heads this time.

 

"He lives at the Kosei dorms, so non-family and students can't get access," she answered, and Sojiro hummed in understanding.

 

"Is there any other way you could get into contact with him?" He said.

 

Akira seemed to deflate and slouched lower into his seat, hands wrapping around his coffee as he stared into dark the surface of the liquid. "I've tried, but he won't answer phone calls or texts, and no one's seen him elsewhere. Even Futaba couldn't get a hold on him," he answered blithely.

 

Futaba put her phone down and leaned on the countertop, chin in her palm. “Yeah, it’s like he just went off the grid.”

 

“Hm,” Sojiro crossed his arms, “is there really no other way?”

 

Akira numbly shook his head once more before blearily turning to the TV as the other two kept talking, their voices turning to static as focused absently in the news report, watching more the news reporter’s face under her obscenely bright makeup than the words she was saying.

 

As she shifted to a bland report of the next week’s weather, his eyes drifted to the scrolling text to the left of the screen, raising his cup to take another sip when the words started to settle in his mind.

His eyes widened and he froze.

 

_“INFORMATION CALL: Early this morning, a young man was found unconscious in an alleyway just near Shibuya’s train station, with no visible wounds spare severely chilled skin. He was rushed to_ Toho University Medical Center Ohashi Hospital. _It was not clear how long he was out there. About five-foot-eleven, thin, dark blue hair and slate-blue eyes, wearing a Kosei uniform but bore no ID. About seventeen to eighteen years old. The only things on his person were a wallet with no money nor means of identification, a cellphone, and bag of art supplies that had been soaked through from the rain. If there is any information available about this boy or there is family looking for him, please either call the hospital or come directly to it.”_

 

“Akira? What’s wrong?” Sojiro asked, breaking him out of his reverie.

 

Akira set down his coffee, but his eyes didn’t move from the words scrolling over the screen. “Do you see that?” he said, pointing at the screen.

 

Confused, Sojiro and Futaba looked toward the screen, the former squinting to read the tiny words. Futaba gasped. “You don’t think…?”

 

“What are the chances?” Akira answered, voice perfectly level in complete opposition to the maelstrom of worry resurfacing his gut.

 

“Let’s ask the others first,” she said, and they both reached for their phones, opening the chat and simultaneously sending wildly different responses.

 

**Futaba** ( _12:45_ )

YO GUYS DID YOU SEE THE NEWS

 

**Akira** ( _12:45_ )

Did anyone see the information scroll on the news just now?

 

**Ann** ( _12:47_ )

That was… weird

**Ann** ( _12:47_ )

But no, I didn’t see it.

**Ann** ( _12:47_ )

What’s up?

 

**Makoto** ( _12:48_ )

I have it on now, but I wasn’t paying attention. What did you two see?

 

**Haru** ( _12:49_ )

Is everything alright?

 

**Futaba** ( _12:50_ )

It said somethin’ about Yusuke and him bein’ passed out in an alley in Shibuya and now h

 

**Akira** ( _12:52_ )

They said something about looking for information about someone who was found in an alley and was taken to the hospital.

 

 

“You’re far too calm for this,” Futaba hissed, reaching for her phone which Akira was holding out of her grip as she simultaneously tried to sneakily snatch it back while reading over his shoulder.

 

Sojiro snorted.

 

**Ann** ( _12:54_ )

Are you serious?!

 

**Makoto** ( _12:56_ )

He’s right. I just read the report now.

 

**Haru** ( _12:57_ )

I just did too.

**Haru** ( _12:58_ )

Do you think it’s him?

 

**Akira** ( _12:57_ )

It has to be.

 

 

“You certainly answered _that_ one quickly,” Futaba said wryly as she finally snatched the phone from Akira’s hand, plopping down back on her seat.

 

**Futaba** ( _12:59_ )

I’m back

**Futaba** ( _12:59_ )

Akira filched my phone.

 

**Haru** ( _1:00_ )

Welcome back!

 

**Akira** ( _1:00_ )

Only because you were being needlessly presumptuous.

 

**Futaba** ( _1:01_ )

And you weren’t?

 

 

Akira winced. _Damn._

 

Futaba shot him a look.

 

**Ann** ( _1:02_ )

We should go check that hospital.

 

**Makoto** ( _1:03_ )

It can’t hurt. We might as well.

 

**Futaba** ( _1:04_ )

Sounds good.

 

**Haru** ( _1:05_ )

Does everyone agree then?

 

**Akira** ( _1:07_ )

Let’s meet up at the Central Street and head over.

 

**Futaba** ( _1:08_ )

Alright Leader

**Futaba** ( _1:08_ )

But on another note: where the hell is Ryuuji?

 

**Ann** ( _1:09_ )

Probably sleeping.

 

**Futaba** ( _1:10_ )

Bet you 500 yen he is.

 

**Makoto** ( _1:11_ )

Guys. Not the time.

 

**Futaba** ( _1:12_ )

whoops

 

**Ann** ( _1:12_ )

Sorry

 

 

With that, Akira pocketed his phone and sighed deeply, hoping to lift the heavy unease he felt in his chest.

 

“So what’re you two up to? Gonna go check that hospital?” Sojiro asked.

 

“Yah,” Futaba answered, pulling her feet up onto her chair, “just as soon as this guy gets dressed.” She jabbed a thumb towards Akira, who blearily realized he was still in his pajamas.

 

“Okay, but… stay safe, alright? And keep me updated,” Sojiro said warily.

 

The two nodded.

 

“Now, go get dressed! I have a bet goin’, and if you take too long I’m gonna lose!” Futaba crowed, shoving Akira.

 

“I’m pretty sure it wasn’t serious,” he said tiredly, getting up nonetheless.

 

“ _Shoo_!”

 

Akira held up his hands in mock surrender as he backed his way toward the stairs.

 

As he headed up, waking up Morgana sleeping on the ledge next to them before starting to change, Akira couldn’t shake the feeling of something so _wrong_ that he just couldn’t place it.

 

_He’s fine. He’s fine. Calm down._

 

His racing heartbeat begged to differ.


	2. Snapdragon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An unwanted realization he didn't want to face.  
> A discovery.  
> False relief.  
> A resolve that burned liked a malicious supernova.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again! I'm hoping to have this done fairly quickly, but we'll see what happens! Also, I'll have you know that the number of chapters has now increased to four!  
> Time for some fun stuff! *wiggles eyebrows*  
> I am uploading this on my phone, so I have to manually do all of my italics, so if I miss something let me know and I'll update when I get back to a laptop!  
> While some things are left intentionally vague, PLEASE let me know if I need to clarify something, or I've confused you!!  
> Hope you enjoy, and I'll see you again soon!  
> Also please know that there are minor spoilers, as this essentially takes play between the sixth and seventh Palaces.

 

_[ **Snapdragon** (red)- Snapdragons possess two meanings. This is similar to the mythical creature they resemble, revered in some cultures and feared in others:_  
_-A snapdragon means **grace** and, due to its growth in rocky areas, **strength**._  
_-However, it can also symbolize **deviousness**.]_

 

The train ride had been crowded, hot, and uncomfortable; the closeness of the bodies on the car proved only to be stifling, no longer the strange feeling of sleepy, blanketing contentment it usually provided. Now, each bump, rattle, and jar of the train dragged unintended touches up and down Akira’s side, from the unfamiliar press of skin to his back and arms to the warm (but still disconcerting) grip of Futaba at his right side, her hands fisted in his shirt. The pressure of Morgana curled up in the bottom of his bag seemed endlessly heavy, as if pulling him toward the sea floor. The touches weren’t meant to be malevolent or cruel, but they sent uncomfortable sparks down Akira’s spine, and he felt as if he had to _escape_. ( _Who was comforting who now?)_

 _Calm down. There’s no reason for you to be this jumpy,_ he scolded himself, sighing deeply as he leaned his head against the metal pole he was holding onto, just hard enough to cause the surface of it to ring.

The sound startled Futaba, and she looked up at him curiously. “You alright?”

His only response was to shut his eyes, forehead still pressed into the metal.

She knit her brows. “You’re not usually this claustrophobic on trains; that’s supposed to be _my_ job,” she said, tugging at her grip on him for demonstration. She got a soft huff of a laugh for that.

“I’m fine, just... tired I think,” he said quietly, just over the din of dull conversation. _And worried_.

“It’s okay to be worried about him, y’know,” she said, startling him. “All of us are.”

He lifted his head from the pole and looked down at her. She was smiling expectantly at him.

“Yeah, you’re right,” he answered, trying to skirt away from how transparent he’d been. (The flare of pain in his chest throbbed.  
_Something_ _is_ _wrong_ , a familiar voice warned him, but he shoved the thought aside.)

Futaba only slipped her arms around his elbow, thoroughly anchoring herself to Akira without another word. This time, the touch didn’t feel as suffocating.

  
(As the tinny voice announced they were coming up on Shibuya, she’d looked up and laughed. “You have a _huge_ red mark on your forehead!”  
He’d walked out with a giggling Futaba still latched to his arm and a hand pressed over his head.)

\---

  
After fetching a half-drowsy Ryuuji from his house -who had indeed been asleep during the conversation- and catching him up, they’d all started their trek to the hospital in various states of anxious energy; Makoto fiddled incessantly with the straps of her bag slung over her shoulder, teeth catching her bottom lip; Haru hummed nervously and tunelessly, hands fluttering absently around her; Ann either swung her arms sharply beside her or tugged at her pigtails, also nibbling at the quicks of her fingernails; Ryuuji had his hands stuffed sharply in his coat pockets, eyes skipping around the scenery around him, tongue anxiously tracing the edge of his lips; Futaba kept fiddling with her glasses or her headphones, her finger occasionally picking at the edge of her belts. But Akira was dead still, as barely a pin drop of _anything_ considered “nervous” could been seen, his face cold and impassive, hands in jeans pockets. But, he was whirlwind of internal chaos, words and thoughts and worries blurring together as he fought with Arsène in a dizzying blur of French and Japanese.

 _You should know by now that something isn’t right,_ Arsène hummed melodically.

 _You’re hiding something from me,_ Akira accused,  _what do you know?_

 _  
Something you already know; after all, I am you._ Akira could practically see the lazy smile he was getting.

 _Don’t be so cryptic,_ Akira hissed, temperament slipping for just a second.

Something victorious sparked from Arsène. _There it is- that anger you’ve been hiding; the passion,_ he purred.

 _What are you trying to do, Arsène?_ Akira fired back, and Arsène laughed, the sound sharp; dangerous.

 _Once again, I am you. I am trying to have you face the inevitable truth you’re trying to ignore,_ Arsène answered.

 _I don’t know what you’re talking about._ Akira was defensive, a wall of ice.

_Yes you do._

_“Enough, Arsène!”_ he finally snarled, the words vocalized to the point of startling the rest of the group.

They were looking at him strangely before Ryuuji spoke up. “What was that?” he asked, one eyebrow raised,

Akira sighed and closed his eyes, one hand angrily scrubbing at his scalp. “I was arguing with Arsène,” he said. “Sorry.”

“No no, we got that part obviously, but, uh...” Ryuuji trailed off.

“It wasn’t Japanese,” Makoto filled in slowly.

Akira froze. He opened his mouth to say something, the others looking at him expectantly, but instead caught sight of the hospital sign they were looking for. “I’ll explain later,” he diverted, shoving his hands back in his pockets as he stalked toward the entrance. (It was then he realized that at some point he’d apparently bit his lip hard enough to slice it open, his tongue tangy and bitter.)

They all reached the front desk where a pair of bored-looking nurses sat in light blue scrubs. The one to the left, a woman with a short black bob and round glasses, looked up to see them and did a double-take, warily addressing the group of mismatched teenagers heading her way. “How can I help you?” she asked slowly, halfway between annoyed and confused.

Unsurprisingly, Ryuuji shoved forward and loudly asked “Where’s Yusuke?” to which he got a slap in the back of the head (Ann), a tired glare (Akira), and a poorly-disguised snicker (Morgana). The nurse raised an eyebrow.

Makoto stepped forward, shaking her head. “We’re here about the information scroll from the news this morning,” she said cooly.

The nurse- her name badge said YUI. S- cocked her head. “The what?” she deadpanned. (An irrational spike of panic stabbed through Akira)

“They mean the kid that was found this morning, Yui,” the other nurse- a salon-red and heavily freckled young man- interjected. “Did you not listen to anything they told us this morning?” he asked tiredly, shaking his head before standing up and addressing the group. “I presume you know him?”

“Yeah, we’re his friends,” Ann answered.

“Strange group…” Yui muttered, and the other nurse (his nametag said HIROTO T.) shot her a scathing look.

“What about his family?” Hiroto asked.

Akira shook his head. “Just us.”

Hiroto paused, giving them a funny look before continuing. “He’s this way,” he directed, and lead them toward the western side of the hospital.

“What’s his name?” he asked as they rounded the endless white corners.

“Yusuke Kitagawa,” Akira said quietly, while Futaba mumbled “Inari” under her breath. He shot her a look, and she grinned.

“‘bout time we got a name for him,” Hiroto said, “we’ve just been calling him “Alley Kid” the whole time.”

Ryuuji snickered. Ann pinched him in the side.

“Here we are,” Hiroto said, reaching a corner room tucked away at the end of the hall. “He’s right in here, but do know he’s still not awake.”

Behind the door, Yusuke lay unconscious in a swath of bedsheets, a heart monitor beeping dully in the background as a IV next to him dripped incessantly. A white patch was pasted to his cheek, and his skin was pale and sallow. He was deathly silent.

Despite Hiroto’s warning, they all rushed into the tiny room with various levels of clamoring relief, and Akira had slunk carefully forward, before experimentally pressing a finger to the inside of Yusuke’s elbow. A surge of _wrong_ spiked through him, and Akira’s eyes widened at the feeling before quickly retracting his arm. Arsène’s warnings spiralled through his head, alarm bells as effervescent as frenzied butterflies. He saw Makoto give him a curious look from the other side of the room.

“‘Patient presented with no apparent cause for unconsciousness, as the only wound present was a scrape to face from the initial fall. No fever or other illness, and wasn’t due to exhaustion or hunger. The only other injury was a severe lack of body warmth due to the rain which left his body temperature far lower than it should have been. Patient remains in a comatose state. Other than that, he appears to be in perfect health,’” Hiroto read from clipboard hanging from the foot of Yusuke’s bed. Tucking it under his arm, he scrutinized the group. “There’s no medical reason for him to be in a coma, but…” he trailed off, looking back at Yusuke. “Is there anything that could have caused this?”

The others looked at each other in confusion before shaking their heads.

Hiroto raised an eyebrow. “Are you _sure_?” he emphasized.  
They shook their heads again.

He sighed before returning the clipboard. “Visitor hours end at six, okay? Please, take care of yourselves,” he said concernedly, before turning and leaving the room.

As he left, Akira let out a deep-set breath, anxious energy sticking to his teeth and his windpipe as his heart pounded. He leaned forward, looking out the door. “Is he gone now?” he asked, and the others nodded. With that he set down his bag, letting Morgana hop out and scuttle up to Yusuke’s bed, curling up worriedly next to his unmoving arm. Akira rolled up his sleeves.

“Dude, what’re you doin’?” Ryuuji asked, but Akira ignored him, tongue too jittery for a proper response.

 _Do you really wish to expose yourself to the others?_ Arsène asked.

 _It’s for Yusuke’s sake, not mine; I have to,_ Akira answered firmly, before pressing his palm into the skin of Yusuke’s chest, wincing at the sting of pain just over his chest.

“Hey, what are you-?” Morgana started, but Akira cut him off with a his other hand.

With an exhalation that sounded like it had been dragged through glass, Akira quietly whispered “ _L’empereur_ ,” and golden light spilled from underneath his fingers as he started to lift them from Yusuke’s chest. Gasps and other declarations of surprise filled the air as a shimmering and almost crystalline card followed his fingers, floating over the owner’s chest.

Akira snatched the card from the air with a sharp, pained breath, his free hand reaching up to rub at a spot on his own chest. He scrutinized the card, elegantly carved in glowing gold with the tarot card of The Emperor, and his eyes widened when he looked at it closely, rubbing a thumb over its surface.

“What _is_ that?” Haru, standing next to Makoto, breathed, her eyes glowing from the backlight of the card.

“Yeah, what the hell _was_ that?” Ryuuji cut in. “You just pulled a _card_ outta his _chest_!”

_You need to tell them._

_I know._

“It’s...part of my power as The Fool,” he started slowly, but his breath caught when a screech like a note out of key split the air and the spider-webbing cracks which had caught his eye earlier had separated and widened. (He hadn’t wanted to be right.)

Akira’s eyes slipped shut with a hiss of pain and he doubled over, and he felt Futaba at his elbow placing a hand on his back. “What just happened?” she asked, though it was more of a command than anything else.

Akira opened his eyes again to look at the unconscious Yusuke, who looked peacefully asleep, and felt the cracks on the card catch at the skin of fingers sharply. “Yusuke’s in danger- no, more specifically, his _soul_ is in danger,” he forced out, showing them all the destroyed card, his empty hand bracing himself on the edge of the bed.

Ann reached forward for it in awe, but the moment her finger touched its surface it disappeared and she yelped, jumping back. “What just happened?” she squawked.

Akira pulled his arm back and straightened back up, wincing, before he held his palm up, the card floating over it. He closed it sharply in his fist, making it vanish with a rush of golden flames and a sound like softly shattering glass. With that, the room felt a thousand times lighter, and Akira let out a relieved breath at the feeling. “As I was saying, it’s part of my power as the Fool, and is the reason I can wield multiple Personas,” he said shakily, trying to stabilize his breathing.

“The Fool?” Makoto interjected.

He nodded. “Each of us holds a certain Arcana, like from a tarot deck, and it shapes what powers you possess. Each revolves around The Fool, and all in turn around The World.”

“Wait what? The World? What are you even talking about about?” Ryuuji asked. “What does that have to do with that glowy card shit you just did?”

“Let ‘im actually explain, numbnuts, and then you'll get it!” Morgana drawled.

Ryuuji bristled. “What was that?” he growled at the cat.

“Boys, _not_ _now_ ,” Makoto scolded, and Ryuuji bitterly conceded, mumbling angrily to himself as he shoved his hands back into his pockets.

Akira took a deep breath before continuing.“In the shortest of ways possible, the best way to describe this is that each Arcana, each of those cards represents each of your souls, and as just as you are connected to me, I am connected to you irrevocably. As I met and befriended each of you, a bond was forged between us that bear the weight of. I don't know why.” His face was solemn and uncertain.

“What exactly do you mean by 'a bond was forged’?” Ann asked quietly.

Akira shifted his weight before he answered, hands fiddling with each other. “Even I'm not exactly certain what it is,” he said, “all I know is that forging one, while it gives me the ability to protect and connect with you as a leader should, is...extremely painful, as it is a physical brand of who I am to watch over, whose lives I hold in my hands.”

“Painful?” Haru asked, and Akira nodded.

“Let me show you,” he said, somewhat uncertain, before shrugging out of his jacket. He took another deep breath and turned to Haru, eyes serious and concentrated. “Haru.” At the sound of her name, he pressed his fingers just under his left eye, and a golden mark lit up in the same shade that the card had been. It was no bigger than a thumbprint, and looked like a circle with a half-circle tiara sitting above it. Just as his mark started to glow, a softer mark appeared under her own eye, and she let out a small gasp as she felt it.

He dropped his fingers from the small ridges of the scar before moving to the next one, the light fading as he dropped his hand. He tapped his fingers to the top of his left wrist. “Ryuuji.” (A mark that looked almost like a Taurus symbol inverted and carved from a single swooping line.) Ryuuji’s eyes widened in silent awe as the same mark lit up on his own wrist.

Akira touched the hollow of his left collarbone. “Morgana.” (A circle with two inverted triangles overlapping in a diamond at the center.) A fascinated twitch of the tail.

Akira leaned down and rolled up his right pant leg until it stopped a couple inches above his knee, pressing a finger to the side of his thigh. “Makoto.” (A crescent moon that looked as if it was sitting atop the horns of a ram.) A confused, albeit curious expression broke over her face as she reached for her own mark.

Akira gently pressed an index finger to his right palm. “Ann.” (A heart with a double-sided arrow arcing through the bottom.) He watched her close her fingers around the mark with a soft look on her face.

He turned around and pulled his shirt up to reveal his back, reaching to press his fingers just under his right shoulder blade. “Futaba.” (A pyramid crowned in a rising sun.) She softly inhaled as she watched the mark glitter on Akira’s back, the same light echoed on her own.

He reached lower, until his fingers dipped into the ridge of his lower back. He paused before pressing in. “Akechi.” His voice was dark and bitter on the word. (An inverted cross with scales balanced atop it.)

Tugging his shirt back down, he faced them again before he reached for his collar, fingers faltering before he pulled it aside. They hesitated over the edges of the scar before he pressed his palm over his heart. “...Yusuke.” His breath caught on his name, as if near the point of breaking. (Almost identical to the circle of Haru’s, but adorned with a less-embellished crown.)The same mark glowed dimly on Yusuke’s chest. Akira let his hand drop.

“Each is a scar that is echoed in your own marks, but yours are… not as deeply-set. These bonds tell me when either your soul or your Persona are in danger, and…” (a broken lightbulb crushed against the inside of his ribs on a sleepless night, an incessant itch, a bell, a scream-)

“And what?” Haru asked.

“Nothing,” he mumbled, before clearing his throat. “In the real world, however, summoning the full bonds are physically exhausting, and are painful as well, but obviously not impossible, and sometimes necessary.”

Makoto creased her brow. “But what about those little marks you just showed us? What about those? Were those not painful to manifest?” She asked, question after question dizzying.

“Those scars are simply reminders,” Akira explained, absently slipping his hands back into his pockets to stop them from shaking, “the actual bonds are like the card I just showed you.”

_I know I needed to explain this, but… we can’t waste time like this!_

“Oh yeah! What were those cracks then in Yusuke’s then? You didn't look so good when they appeared,” Futaba asked, and Akira breathed a sigh of relief.

_Getting right to the point._

“Something’s wrong with Yusuke’s soul, but… I have no idea what it is. But it's bad, and I don't know what to _do_.” He could feel his composure slipping, and felt the slightest cut of desperation in his words. _Dammit_.

Futaba gently placed her hand on his back again, a silent comfort. Akira relaxed, if but a little.

“What happens if we can't find his soul or whatever?” Ryuuji cut in, oblivious to the slip.

Akira’s hands clenched into fists and his teeth snagged into the fresh wound on his lip. “Then… he’ll die.”

“What?!”

“You're kidding!”

“You're… not serious, are you?”

Akira only gravely looked to the ground, his silence answer enough.

After an awkward pause, Makoto spoke up. “We need to figure out how to save him.”

Morgana sat up then, rubbing a paw over his eye. “The best place to start would be to figure out where he was last.”

Akira gnawed on his abused lip as he thought, wondering where Yusuke could’ve been when _whatever_ had happened _happened_ , until a cold dread settled into his stomach in icy realization. As if in response to his thoughts, he felt a blossom of something sticky and sickly red like an infected flower just beneath his ribcage, as festered as the location itself.

“Mementos.”

The others looked up at him in shock as he looked back down at Yusuke, fingers twiddling at his collar. “He’s in Mementos somehow; he _has_ to be,” he said.

“You don't think…?” Ann started, but Akira interrupted her with a nod as he looked back up.

“ _He_ would know what we look like, and understandably he’d want to attack us. It makes sense,” he rushed out, as if the words were sloppily fit to his logic after they’d left his mouth.

“We can't jump to conclusions, Akira,” Makoto said warily.

“There’s no other place he could be,” Akira argued.

“Yeah, and that nurse guy did say there was no reason for Yusuke to be unconscious. It’s _gotta_ be something related to the Metaverse.” Ryuuji added.

Makoto sighed, rubbing absently at her temples. “I suppose it can't hurt to check.”

Akira nodded, but the affirmation didn't lessen the sticky worry in his chest.

_You’re running out of time._

_I know. You don’t need to tell me._

_That wasn't the only thing I was referring to._

_Not. Now._

_How long then, Joker? How long are you willing to wait? Until he’s dead and dust?_

Akira closed his eyes. _That’s_ _enough_.

A low laugh rumbled behind his eyes.  _Suit yourself. Luck may have gotten you this far, but there's no telling how long it will last._

“We’ll meet at the hideout then tomorrow morning so everyone can get some rest, alright?” Makoto announced, looking to each for confirmation. “We can't let worry dull us, especially not when it’s one of our own.”

Despite her words, the room seemed numb, gray, unsteady, and even the sounds of agreement were muted.

Morgana leaped up to Akira’s shoulder, tail brushing the back of his shirt. “Sounds like we’re all unanimous. Mementos tomorrow, finish what we started?”

“I'm gonna kick that guy's ass if we find out he did this,” Ryuuji said darkly, punching one fits into the palm of his other.

“With pleasure,” Akira added, voice much more malevolent than usual. (He didn't know how just those two words had startled his teammates, and how much _power_ they had carried.)

With that, they all bid goodbye to Yusuke despite him not being able to hear them, and left the hospital, more akin to a murder of Hell’s crows than a group of teenagers.

_Cut one head off, and two more grow back.  
That is the rule of the Hydra._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dun dun dun- who's this mysterious "he" in Mementos? ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯  
> So... how'd it go? Didja like the marks and bonds inclusion? I had fun running with it, but if you're confused about something please let me know! 
> 
> If you're curious, I based each mark's location off of how each person truly MET him, and that gets kinda weird, so...
> 
> Haru: A figure that stood above the rest due to her heritage, he had to look up- in all manners- in order to find her. She caught his eye in an unexpected way.  
> Ryuuji: He pretty much took him by the wrist and dragged him headlong into this crazy world, and refused to leave him despite the danger they were in.  
> Morgana: Once he finally settled in and saw the Thieves as his family, where was the one place he always sat? Just above Akira's shoulder, and always in his bag.  
> Makoto: The first time she really let down her façade and proved she was human was during the scene in the Sakura house, where she'd clutched onto his leg in fear.  
> Ann: He'd had to chase her in order to talk to her, as she was so far out of their reach from her own self-imposed solitude out of fear of Kamoshida and her protection of Shiho.  
> Futaba: The first time she was with all of the others, and the first time she was truly comfortable with Akira was when she hid behind him, and found that it was a spot that was always safe.  
> Akechi: He always watched the group from afar, and always remained distant, even to his end. And, of course, he stabbed Akira in the back, so there's that symbolism too.  
> Yusuke: The first time Akira really understood the gravity of what Madarame had done was when he heard about Yusuke's story, and in the end had always managed to amaze him and touch him with what he'd do or say. Obviously, of course, since this is the Main Ship (tm), it also had to be in a mushy place. ;)  
> (The marks themselves are based off of the actual tarot symbols!)
> 
> And yes, other confidants do also have marks, but Akira didn't want to try and swamp them with information so he didn't bring it up then. (For example, right at his pulse point is Takemi's mark, and Igor's mark is right between his eyes.) 
> 
> If you're curious, the point does come up later and he eventually tells them, but there's no place for me to really include, but it essentially goes like this:
> 
> Ryuuji: So you other marks too? Besides ours?  
> Akira: *nods*  
> Ryuuji: So.... what's the weirdest place you have one?  
> Akira: *deadpan stare* *opens his mouth and sticks out his tongue to reveal the mark of The Devil* *closes his mouth and walks away without another word*  
> Ryuuji: *choking sound* What the fuck???  
> So there we go. Sorry that was so long!!


	3. Monkshood

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A step into hell.  
> Burning eyes, scathing words-  
> Danger, danger, danger.  
> And the blood- oh, the blood- how it spills, and how his resolve screams.
> 
> Time to open the wicked gates to the underworld.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back!  
> Updates: this is turning into a monster, though I believe the total will now be FIVE chapters! Please also note the updated tags, though it is mild. (There's also some cursing)
> 
> Okay guys, buckle up, the time has come: this chapter is messy. Body horror, blood, up-close description of wounds, the works- this fic is not for you if these will be a problem!
> 
> Also, just as a reminder- Arsène's dialogue is always absent of quotation marks and italicized, while dialogue in French will be in italics with quotation marks!
> 
> I have to admit... this was guiltily fun to write. I'm a horrible person. But here he finally is: that boy is here!! Also, Arsène kicks Akira's ass in gear and forces him to face some... things... but more on that later.  
> Enjoy?

  [ ** _Monkshood_ ** : _In addition to being a common plant used in acute poisons, this blossom also serves as a_ **_warning,_ ** _as it also serves as a_ **_beware_ ** _to those gifted with it.]_

 

That night, Akira didn’t sleep. His chest felt fit to burst as if the sick feeling there would split his seams and spill out from beneath his eyes, the cracks in his lips, his gums- behind his eyes, he saw a screeching blur of a figure clawing at their face, the sound unworldly and awful as it scratched at the insides of his eyelids.

Akira eventually gave up trying then, opening his eyes and pressing the heels of his hands into his eyes, trying to will away both the sounds of his dream as well as the urge to vomit. He let a deep breath ease out of his lungs, trying to will away the sick twist in his stomach. He dropped his hands, staring unseeingly into the oppressive darkness of his attic, pressing into every inch of him like a compress that left cold sweat in its wake. He could feel Morgana curled up by his feet, but other than that, he was lost in the numbness of the night.

 

_Dreams, night terrors, crippling fear, an impulsive tongue, the naïve insistences of his well-being- how long do you plan on deluding yourself, Joker?_

 

Akira screwed his eyes shut, but didn’t reply. Arsène continued despite the silence. _You can’t ignore me; you are turning a blind eye to yourself and your own heart. You’re running._

 

 _No, I’m- I’m not running,_ Akira tried, but even he could tell how stale his words sounded.

 

 _Then what_ are _you doing?_ Arsène asked, his voice just a touch condescending.

 

 _I’m…_ Akira couldn’t find a suitable answer, as if clawing at nothingness.

 

 _You’re being a coward,_ Arsène answered bluntly. _You know this is true._

 

 

 _Stop. Please,_ it was a bare whisper, barely formed, so broken like a child’s words.

 

 _I am your undying will, the resolve of your own soul,_ Arsène said, voice spiralling into the magnificence of its owner, towering over Akira like a father’s words. _What are you to gain from hiding your own feelings from yourself?_

 

 _It_ hurts, Akira answered, something snapping in him, and he covered his face with his arm.

 

 _Are you not_ human _?_ Arsène yelled, and Akira winced. _Is it not human nature to protect the things and_ people _they hold dear? Is it not human to love and want to be loved?_

 

 

Akira’s breath hitched as if pulled by a puppet string.

 

 _Why do you hide? Why are you terrified?_ Arsène demanded.

 

_I-_

 

_Why do you act like a child?_

 

 _I don’t_ know _!_

 

_Yes, you do._

 

Akira stopped, squeezing his eyes shut even tighter. _I can’t._

 

 _You are the leader of the illustrious Phantom Thieves, The Fool, the Wild Card; your links and bonds of others flow through you like precious blood. To ignore your own call…. does that not hurt you more than mere_ love _possibly does?_

 

 _I can’t. I-I just_ can’t _,_ Akira pleaded, something raw and scorching tearing at his throat.

 

 _Face your own heart. You cannot face your fate if you shove it aside to fester like a wound. There is no cowardice in love, only in hiding from it. Accept yourself- accept_ him.

 

With that, Akira could feel Arsène’s presence dull, and the lift of it brought a shaking breath out of his lungs. He felt as if he was made of lead, seafloor-bound and sinking.

 

“Akira?” a voice- _Morgana’s,_ his brain supplied when he’d flinched at the intrusive sound. “What’s wrong?”

 

“Nothing’s wrong, Morgana,” Akira said quietly, not moving his arm from his face.

 

Akira could feel the weight by his feet shift before the press of soft paws padded up toward his face until Morgana placed his first two on Akira’s chest, the points of contact burning. “Akira, you’re crying; obviously something isn’t right,” he said softly.

 

Again, Akira’s breath hitched as realized his eyes were indeed burning with traitorous tears, their burning lines slipping down his face into his hairline. “I…”

 

Morgana cut him off by hopping up onto his chest, and Akira dropped his arm to peer at him. “You don’t need to tell me,” Morgana said, curling up into a ball with a soft hum, “just try and get some sleep, okay?”

 

Akira hesitantly slid his hands into the soft fur of Morgana’s back; whether it was the warm weight on his chest or the feeling of tears drying on his cheeks, something finally lulled Akira into a sleepy stupor, and he eventually fell into a proper sleep, worry still staining the edges of his vision a dull red. (The mark of The Emperor stung and throbbed.)

 

\---

 

The next morning, the Thieves all sat jampacked into Leblanc’s tiny booths, nervous energy clouding the air of it as they all talked.

 

“So, it’s gotta be that Tanaka guy, doesn’t it?” Ryuuji started, fingers drumming harshly on the tabletop.

 

“It has to, considering we weren’t able to turn him,” Ann agreed, crossing her legs and leaning on the tabletop.

 

Makoto hummed. “The mafia boss running a cheap underground business for call girls and escorts, not to mention illegal arms on the side- Ryouta Tanaka,” she recited. “We were called by a friend of one of the girls he ‘enlisted’ to track him down and put an end to him; he was certainly quite the battle.”

 

“He had some kind of shield up that blocked me from reading him, and I couldn’t find a weakness of any kind,” Futaba grumbled from her spot to Akira’s left, arms wrapped around her drawn-up knees.

 

“He _was_ pretty pissed when we waltzed in, spouting that bullshit that he was the “unstoppable king” and that we’d never be able to beat him,” Ryuuji added bitterly.

 

“But why target Yusuke?” Haru asked, setting down her coffee.

 

“ _Because_ we were there to stop him in the first place,” Makoto said, “it’s petty self-defense.”

 

“But how’d he get to him? It wasn’t like he physically attacked him,” Ann said. “Any  ideas, Morgana?”

 

Morgana, from his perch on the headrest behind Akira, shook his head. “His shadow must’ve found a way to attack Yusuke somehow, but… “

 

“Wouldn’t that mean Yusuke would also have to be in Mementos somehow?” Haru added.

 

 _The screaming figure blurred by nightmare and terror, that sound-_ “I… think he’s somehow there, but… I’m not sure,” Akira said quietly, startling the others.

 

“Yusuke? But how could he be? Persona wielders can’t have Palaces, isn’t that right, Morgana?” Makoto asked.

 

“That’s true, but they can still have Shadows,” he explained, hopping down onto the table. “Remember when you awakened your Persona? You succumbed to your Shadow if but for a second.”

 

A silence rang through the cafe as they digested the information.

 

“Yeah… you’re right,” Ryuuji said, breaking the silence, “I remember feelin’ like, super badass for a minute when I’d gotten Captain Kidd, and when Akira got his Persona, I remember seein’ him with this freaky yellow eyes like other Shadows for for like a second.”

 

Morgana nodded. “That separation of will and desire gave way to your Persona, and accounts for the subtle personality changes you exhibit when you’re in the Metaverse.”

 

Ann blinked. “Personality changes?”

 

Morgana tilted his head. “You didn’t notice? You exhibit the traits of your Persona, and are more commanding.”

 

“Now that I think about it…” Makoto interjected, “I think I understand what you’re saying.” She turned to Akira, and he gave her a look. “You tend to be more coy and suave in general, a lot more… _taunting_ than you are normally. Similarly, Haru is more brash, Ryuuji is a malicious forced to be reckoned with, Ann is wickedly fierce, Futaba is outgoing, and….” she paused. “Yusuke is more open and bright, and frankly _stronger_.”

 

“And you’re super badass and unreserved,” Ann added cheerfully.

 

“Yeah, that’s it,” Morgana said. “Similarly, Shadows of regular people are just concentrations of their twisted desires, whatever they may be.”

 

Something uncomfortable sat with Akira at those words. _Could he have succumbed to something so twisted like that?_

 

“I don’t Yusuke could ever end up so awful like those other people though,” Futaba said, “he’s too damn _nice.”_

 

“Yeah, the guy’s too pure or whatever to end up twisted like those bastards,” Ryuuji added.

 

“Human desires and other strifes manifest differently depending on the person, like Mishima and his arrogance,” Morgana reminded, “so we have no idea why his Shadow would be there.”

 

Another lull of sober silence broke over the cafe.

 

“Akira, do you...?” Makoto started, but Akira shook his head.

 

“I have as much of a clue as you do,” he said solemnly.

 

“Well, I don’t think I hear any no’s about punching this dude’s face in,” Ryuuji piped up, shifting away the tension.

 

“Should we head out?” Haru asked.

 

She was met with resounding agreement that rang through the rafters.

 

“Well then let’s head out!” Morgana said. “You ready to head out, Akira?”

 

He nodded slowly -almost distractedly- before pulling out his phone.

 

As he opened up the Nav, Futaba nudged him. “You alright? You’re kinda out of it, and you’ve been weirdly quiet.”

 

He shook his head. “I just didn’t sleep well,” he mumbled, activating the Nav before she could say anything else.

 

\---

 

At the top of Mementos, all of the group was wound tightly like frozen clockwork, all on edge to the point of being paranoid. Akira was uneasy, overfilled, stretched like flesh over too-wide bones- he felt ready to snap in two should he breathe just wrong.

 

_Calm down. Calm down._

 

“He should be on the same floor as Tanaka,” Morgana said to Futaba, his voice jarring Akira out of his reverie. She nodded, and touched a finger to her visor.

 

Then she froze, frowning. “I can’t see his signal anymore,” she said, puzzled. “It’s like he slid off the map.”

 

“Tanaka’s?” Haru asked.

 

Futaba nodded. “He should be somewhere on Akzeriyyuth, if I remember correctly, but I’m getting nothing. Maybe he’s gone?” she suggested, but Morgana didn’t look convinced.

 

“No, he’s still here; I can feel his presence, but it’s not as pinpoint as they usually feel,” he said, tail flicking in irritation.

 

“Maybe’s he’s cloakin’ himself or something,” Ryuuji added, fingers running up the seams of his belts as he shifted from foot to foot.

 

Futaba hummed, shifting something on her visor. “That could be a possibility, considering his abilities in battle.”

 

“Is there any way to find him?” Makoto asked, but Futaba shook her head.

 

“Not with what we have here. I’m sorry guys,” she answered sadly.

 

Ann rested a hand on her shoulder. “It’s okay, Oracle, I’m sure we’ll still be able to find him,” she consoled.

 

Akira paused, feeling something like a warm bubble pop at the back of his mind, a presence quietly whispering to him. He smiled, lips barely curling. “I think I may be able to try something,” he said, and motioned for them to stand back. Then, he gently touched his fingers to the bridge of his mask where the mark of The Fool lay underneath. “ _Arsène_ ,” he called, voice barely heard as a rush of blue flames and the sound of chain-laced feathers rattled through the air until Arsène himself manifested before Akira, his massive body magnified by the mighty aura that dripped from him.

 

 _“I require your assistance in a search,”_ Akira asked, eyes locked on the flames that danced behind the top hat drawn over the glowing face.

 

 _I will assist as best I can, Joker,_ Arsène replied, dipping low into a bow.

 

Akira heard confused murmurs mingled in with ones of awe, but he blocked them out for the time being. “ _Do you think you are able to track Goemon, the Persona of The Emperor?”_ he requested.

 

If Arsène had a face, Akira was certain he’d be able to see a smug smile pulled over his features.

 

Arsène laughed, the sound unearthly and deep, as if the request was absurdly easy. _An easy task, I can assure you,_ he said, _though I alone will not be able to pinpoint it. I require the aid of your Oracle._

 

Without moving from his spot, Akira looked to Oracle and gestured for her to come over. Startled, she obeyed, and came to stand next to Akira- if hiding behind him- as she approached the sheer size of Arsène.

 

 _Are you ready, Joker?_ Arsène asked, and Akira nodded, pressing his fingers into the scar over his heart and closing his eyes.

 

A glowing light- both from the mark itself as well as Arsène’s hand- spilled over in bright blue, and a soft hum filled the air. Akira could feel his bond buzzing, ringing, singing, until it sharpened into a fine point that burned almost painfully behind his sternum and his eyes snapped open, his hand reaching for Futaba’s shoulder. “Get ready,” he whispered, but Futaba gave Akira a look of wild-eyed confusion.

 

“But I have _no idea_ what you’re saying,” she hissed, but he ignored her.

 

Arsène formed the glowing light into a sphere before setting it aflame, and then floated  it toward Akira, who caught it, closing his eyes and focusing on it, _listening._ He could hear the whispering voices of Mementos humming within it, until Arsène was able to sharpen something akin to a frequency. Then, he was able to hear a voice- like Yusuke’s but modulated, older-and he realized it was Goemon’s stream of consciousness. _He must be in a dream state of some sort, since Yusuke is unconscious as well,_ Akira realized, but he focused on the words nonetheless. Ethereal, nonsensical, musical, they were words that Akira could hear but simply couldn't understand, as if their meanings escaped him. Nonetheless, he was able to whisper the snips of lines he heard to Futaba, who inputted them warily.

 

Once he felt he got it all, he opened his eyes and blew gently on the sphere until it dissipated like glowing smoke. He heard Futaba suck in a surprised breath beside him before she announced the location. “He’s on the fifth floor of Akzeriyyuth, behind two locked doors,” she called, and Akira let out a relieved breath at her words.

 

_It worked._

 

 _Of course it did; after all, your bonds exist for this very reason, do they not?_ Arsène said at Akira’s thought.

 

 _I guess you’re right,_ Akira answered. “ _Thank you for your aid, Arsène,”_ Akira then said aloud, bowing his head in thanks.

 

 _I am always at your service, Joker,_ Arsène replied, bowing once again before vanishing in a rush of flames.

 

Once he’d disappeared, Joker looked up to see the gaping looks of the rest of the thieves. He just shoved his hands in his pockets indifferently.

 

“Joker, what _was_ that?” Ann spluttered, gesturing wildly toward him.

 

Akira shrugged. “Arsène just taught me a location spell,” he answered blasély.

 

“What d’you mean he _just taught you?”_ Ryuuji said incredulously.

 

“I dunno,” Akira answered, “he just kinda showed me and I did it.” (He himself was also beyond confused, but he wasn’t going to tell them that.)

 

“That brings up another question,” Makoto cut in, “since when can you speak French?”

 

“Yeah!” Futaba crowed from next to Akira, nearly startling him with her outburst. “I had no idea what you two were saying like, at _all_.”

 

He paused, opening his mouth to say something before changing his mind. “I promise I’ll explain later,” he instead said hurriedly, “we need to get moving.” With that, he waved for them to head down the escalators.

 

“Didn’t he say that last time?” Ann grumbled, throwing an exasperated look to Ryuuji, who only shrugged in confusion with _don’t ask me!_ plastered on his face.

 

\----

 

Once they’d reached the bottom, Morgana had transformed into his van form and they’d set off toward the depths, and the normal aimless conversations they usually had while driving around evaporated and were replaced with nervous, silent air.

 

As they’d driven further and further down, Yusuke’s mark had slowly started to burn hotter and more painful as if a brand was being pressed to it. The feeling unsettled Akira, but he tried to silence his rampaging worries as he focused on the rotting train tracks of Mementos. _We have to be getting close._

 

Eventually, Futaba quietly announced that they’d reached the right floor, and they parked in front of the warped entrance before Morgana transformed back.

 

“What’s the plan, Joker?” Haru asked, light eyes bright with determination behind her black mask.

 

“Don’t attack until I give the signal; let’s see if we can talk to Tanaka first,” Akira said, “but also be on your guard. He was hard to attack now, but now that he has a hostage it will be even harder to land a hit.”

 

Makoto shook her head. “We can’t be sure that Fox is actually here,” she said.

 

Akira turned to her, wincing at the tear of pain in his chest. “He’s here, Queen; he’s _definitely_ here.”

 

“Yeah, you saw what Joker did with Arsène,” Ann interjected, propping a hand on her hip. “Whatever that was,” she mumbled under her breath.

 

“Regardless, we must remain wary; if the situation arises we must retreat without hesitation.” Makoto warned.

 

Akira turned back to the group. “Everyone understand?”

 

The others nodded.

 

“Let’s head in,” he said, and he could feel the rush of rage-stained determination and pride. _If Tanaka really has Yusuke then he’ll have hell to pay._

 

As they stepped past the threshold into Tanaka’s room, Akira felt the room drop several degrees as something ominous crawled up his spine. The atmosphere had changed since they’d last been here, and it set every one of his nerves alight.

 

As they neared the center of the room with Akira in the lead, a deep chuckle- though more a chortle than anything- reverberated around the room as a figure came into view. “I was wondering if you guys would actually show back up again,” the voice said as Ryouta Tanaka stepped forward.

 

He was an older man in the remains of a tattered and cheap suit, face narrow and cruel with deep set eyes in sickening Shadow yellow. He had ratty shoulder-length hair and another patch of hair just under his chin in a failed goatee. His face was split by a maliciously cocky grin. “By the looks on your pathetic faces, it seems I have the right brat,” he laughed. In front of him he had the missing Fox with a hand pressed harshly over his mouth and the muzzle of a pistol pressed into the side of his head. “Well, wasn't like it was hard to figure out when a tall kid with bright blue hair showed, almost exactly like the one you had with you when you failed to attack me.”

 

At the sight of Yusuke the entire group froze, and Akira could feel his breath turn to burning ice in his chest; from what he could see, Yusuke was absolutely destroyed: his face was marred in freshly-bleeding gouges, his right eye milky white and sightless, a bleeding gash scraping out of his tear duct and down his cheek. His other eye was crystal clear and terrified, puffy red with tears that spilled down his ruined face. Akira could also see what looked like a line of stitching running up the sides of Yusuke’s cheeks, continuing underneath where Tanaka’s hand was harshly pressing.

 

Akira’s eyes skipped further down Yusuke’s body, swallowing the harrowing sight as his breath caught once he saw the wound at his throat; messily torn open, it looked as if someone had ripped out Yusuke’s vocal cords, leaving him dumb as the wound bubbled and bled as air hissed through it. He was shirtless, his arms covered in a mess of razor-straight lines crisscrossing over each other in various levels of freshness, as some were brand new and gory while others were white with scar tissue; their meaning hit Akira like a sucker punch.  Just above Yusuke’s heart, a rotted hole opened into his chest, and Akira felt a sick plummet in his stomach as he saw a ribcage impaled with needles puncturing into Yusuke’s lungs and heart with each movement, each _breath_ he took- _like a shattered lightbulb_ , Akira thought, dread pooling his chest.

 

But his hands- _oh his_ _hands_ \- were what made Akira’s heart break, for clutched futilely at Tanaka’s own hands were fingers that were distorted, broken, bleeding, _missing entirely,_ some with bloody swaths of raw flesh where nail beds should be or with pins inserted under whatever nail was left. Those hands were chained together at the wrists in rusted iron manacles that had rubbed the skin underneath them raw, streaks of bloody flesh and infected skin oozing around the edges. His skin was pallid, sallow like candle wax, so devoid of flush and blood-

He looked like a walking corpse.

 

Akira felt tears prick behind his eyes at the horrible realization that twisted in his chest: _This… this is his art block, isn’t it?_ He could see other’s varying reactions of horror, from Haru and Ann clapping their hands over to their mouths to the dead shock that painted Ryuuji’s face. (Akira remembered how frustrated Yusuke had been with himself recently, how defeated he’d been because he couldn’t find a muse and create art, and oh, if Akira had _just tried harder to help him-_ )

 

“Oi, eyes up here,” Tanaka called lazily, snapping Akira out of his head with a rush of dark anger. “You little shits have been interfering in something you have no business stepping in.”

 

“You’re forcing helpless girls into being _prostitutes!”_ Ann, outraged, yelled, hands clenched into fists at her sides.

 

Tanaka clicked his tongue disapprovingly. “My dear, they’re not _prostitutes,_ they’re _escorts,”_ he corrected, condescension dripping from each syllable.

 

“It doesn’t matter what you call them, it’s still the same in the end,” Makoto added, face disgusted.

 

Tanaka laughed again, tightening his grip on Yusuke and digging the point of his gun further into his skull, a sharp flare of pain in Akira’s mark echoing the impending danger. His wince mirrored the one that flitted through Yusuke’s face. “One man’s trash is another’s treasure, ain’t that how they say it? I simply take in trash from the streets and turn them into my own special kinda gold,” he sneered, before looking disdainfully at Akira, “though I guess you guys would know all about taking in filthy strays.”

 

“You’re despicable,” Haru breathed. “Don’t these girls have their own lives?”

 

Tanaka shrugged. “Doesn’t fate dictate where they end up?” he asked simply. “And besides, it’s not like I only take in girls, in fact,” he leaned down closer toward Yusuke’s face, causing him to try and jerk away in revulsion, “ _this one_ would make a rather lovely addition to my collection.”

 

Akira grit his teeth, fingers flexing out before tightening in barely-contained fists.

 

“It’s really a pity that I had to shoot him in the back, however; it ruined his lovely skin,” Tanaka continued, his voice sad as if he genuinely felt guilty. “But, we all have sacrifices to make in life, and now I have you all here right where I want you.”

 

“You’re fuckin’ _disgusting!”_ Ryuuji roared, lurching forward to strike, but Akira swung an arm across his chest to halt him.

 

Tanaka clucked his tongue again, pulling Yusuke closer to him. “You move any closer and I’ll blow his pretty little head into pieces.”

 

Akira’s gut clenched. He could feel the others roiling, bloodthirsty, but he held up a subtle hand to keep them down.

 

“I don’t think we’ll be able to bargain with him at all, but we _still_ can’t attack,” Morgana, to his right, said lowly. “What should we do?”

 

Akira looked up into the cruel face of Tanaka, before shifting down to Yusuke’s panicked face. _He seems to be responsive just enough to realize what’s happening,_ he thought. _Maybe I can…_

 

Akira straightened himself up, settling his face into something coolly neutral as he turned to address Yusuke. “ _Fox, can you hear me?”_ he tried hesitantly, letting the foreign syllables settle over everyone one’s heads.

 

Yusuke’s good eye zeroed in on him, sharply aware and focused. _Yes._

 

“What are you doing?” Futaba hissed, but Akira waved her off. _Just wait._

 

 _“Fox, I need you to grab the gun from him, but first you’ll have to distract him; do you think you can do that?”_ Akira continued, voice calm and commanding.

 

Tanaka’s pompous look dropped from his face, replaced by an irritated snarl. “What are you saying to him? What are you telling him, you filthy foreigner?” he hissed, but Akira paid his barb no heed.

 

“ _Ignore him, Fox,”_ he continued. “ _Now, are you ready?”_

 

Yusuke subtly nodded against Tanaka’s hold, but it was enough for Tanaka to register and he pressed his hand harder against Yusuke’s mouth, an awful choking sound hissing from the gaping wound in his throat.

 

“You _shithead_ , what the fuck do you think you’re doing?” Tanaka demanded, eyes blazing, mighty demeanor replaced by one of ugly rage. “I’ll tear you to pieces if you say another word!”

 

Akira ignored him, opening his mouth to say something else- much to his mistake, as Tanaka pulled the gun from Yusuke’s head and fired it toward Akira without an ounce of hesitation.

 

Time seemed to slow down as the bullet raced toward him, the screams of his teammates turning into molasses as he summoned a shield, but it was too little too late: he could see the bullet race past the edges of the shield, easily shattering its weakly formed layers until it lodged solidly into the core of his left shoulder with a pain like he’d never felt before in his life.

 

With the rush of pain bringing forth a surge of unholy adrenaline, time sped back up, and he could hear the yells of his teammates as he stumbled back, a weak cry slipping from his mouth as he slapped a hand to his shoulder. Akira could feel the wound burning, tearing apart as thick blood spilled from the site, staining the pristine edges of his jacket. His vision went white and red and dizzy, and he felt hyper-aware of his fresh injury.

 

 _“_ I said _not another word!”_ Tanaka screeched, gun returning back to Yusuke’s head. “ _Don’t fuck with me!”_

 

With a hiss, Akira was able to cast a weak Dia spell that merely dissolved the bullet and numbed the wound, the shock sapping any strength needed for anything stronger. As the pain subsided, he lifted his head and looked Tanaka dead in the eye. “You know, you’re pretty awful,” he said calmly, laughing wryly. “Kidnapping helpless kids, turning them into _escorts,_ holding a teenager hostage, _shooting_ another one simply for talking; Noir was right, you _are_ despicable.”

 

He could feel his anger spilling over and turning into something more razor sharp and cold, something taunting and sweet and dangerous, some emotion he’d never felt before- and he _reveled_ in it.

 

His eyes flicked to Yusuke again. “ _Get ready,”_ he warned, switching back to French, much to the disdain of Tanaka.

 

“Do you want another bullet in you so badly?” He snarled. “Didn’t I tell you to shut up with that foreign shit?”

 

Akira cocked his head, hand still clutching his bad shoulder, but a dark smile crawled disarmingly over his face, evaporating any thought that he was weakened by that gunshot. His eyes were coy and almost-cruel, as if toying with a plaything. “Now, I don’t think I was talking to you, now was I?” he said sweetly, before raising his good hand, palm out and fingers spread. “ _Now_ !” he yelled, the shout causing Tanaka to freeze just long enough for Yusuke to close his eyes and _slam_ the back of his head into Tanaka’s face, forcing him to release Yusuke in favor of nursing his now-bleeding nose.

 

Akira heard sounds of surprise from the others as Yusuke- despite his bound hands- wrestled the gun away from Tanaka and threw it as far as he could, the object disappearing as it hit the ground.

 

“Ice!” Futaba cried victoriously, “he dropped his shield! He’s weak to _ice!”_

 

Akira- no, _Joker_ smiled again. _Perfect._

_(That’s it, feed your will, your passion; let your rage fill your lungs with squalls of resolve!)_

 

“Oh, no _that’s_ how you wanna play, huh?” Tanaka, voice slurry with pain, said lowly. “Then _come at me!”_ At his words, his skin turn a horrible shade of pulsating purple as curling horns sprouted from his head in gushing streams of blood, talons and leathery wings stretching his skin and splitting it open as he screamed. His face, now distorted with a mouth full of gleaming and bloody fangs, twisted maliciously.

 

“Everyone, _go!”_ Akira ordered, his hand closing into a fist, and they all surged forward, each taking shots. Ryuuji and Makoto were up close with interchanging hits that left ugly gashes in his skin, and Ann, paired with Morgana, opened fire with their respective weapons. Now, without his shielding, Tanaka was nothing more than a measly, everyday Shadow, squealing as he tried to hide from the attacks.

 

Akira called a sharp “Noir, guard!” while pointing at the now-freed Yusuke, hearing a “Got it!” in return as she cast a shield around them both, guarding them both with her axe as Akira barreled headfirst toward Tanaka, throwing his dagger ahead of him to get the monster’s attention.

 

The dagger hit its mark with a sickening squelch as it embedded itself into Tanaka’s eye, and he stumbled back with an inhuman wail.

 

As Akira reached him, Tanaka scratched and clawed at his ruined eye, viscous juices spilling thickly from the wound onto his face. Akira summoned an ice spell into his good hand, feeling its glowing cold tickling the edges of his fingers before he plunged it straight into Tanaka’s chest, earning an ear-splitting scream in return as ice raced over his ugly inflamed flesh until he couldn’t move, his eyes desperate.

 

Akira stepped back from his work, face impassive. “Skull,” he said, and Ryuuji gave him an near-terrified look, “shatter him.”

 

Ryuuji took a second to react, until an evil smile crossed his face and he wound up, striking the frozen Tanaka with his hammer. Shards of frozen flesh exploded everywhere, and everyone else covered themselves.

 

A sharp lull of silence followed the explosion, and the others looked from the former Tanaka to Akira in various shades of horror.

 

“That was…” Makoto started, but couldn’t  find the will to continue.

 

Eventually, Tanaka reappeared, skin normal and head hung low, eyes brimming with tears. Akira barely had to say anything before he turned into a blubbering mess and promised to let his escorts go and turn himself in. Akira had let him go before snatching his Treasure, which was nothing more than a few wrinkled 1000 yen bills. _Disgustingly anticlimactic._

 

With that, the dark tension lifted as Akira took a deep breath coupled with a wince as he shoved the bills into his pocket.

 

“So…” Ann started carefully, “what do we do now?”

 

Akira looked to where Haru- who looked rattled- was still guarding the half-dazed Yusuke. “We still have another Shadow to deal with,” Akira said simply, heading over to the two without another word to the rest of the group.

 

Akira nodded to Haru to drop the shield, and asked her to step aside, to which she obliged, albeit warily. “What do you plan on doing?” she asked softly.

 

“Sending him home,” he answered, before stopping in front of the not-Yusuke. Now that Tanaka’s hands were no longer over his mouth, Akira could see that his lips were crudely sewn shut, and the bloody stitches curved up his cheeks like a fake smile. He felt his heart twist. “I’m sorry, Yusuke,” he said, voice barely carrying. “I’m sorry I let you fall this far.”

 

Yusuke didn’t respond, spare to bow his head in shame.

 

Akira reached forward and held his fingers in front of what should have been his heart, where his mark should lay, stomach lurching at the sight of his pin-filled heart. His touch illuminated a floating version of the mark just in front of Yusuke, and he looked at Akira in confusion before he reverted into his normal self like a flicker of static.

 

As he started to fade completely, Akira could feel himself chanting _please work please work_ until he felt Yusuke’s presence disappear fully, and a shift like two magnets slotting into place tugged at him until the pressure behind his mark dissipated. He could feel exhaustion flood his body as his shoulder started to throb painfully, his chest heaving in gasping breaths.

 

 _It’s done. We did it. He’s okay,_ he thought to himself, but Arsène interrupted him.

 

 _While he did not physically perish, his soul is still sick,_ he reminded. _He still needs to be healed._

 

_I know._

 

_Good._

 

Good hand gripping his bad shoulder, Akira hobbled back over to the rest of the group, feeling Ryuuji slip an arm through his other shoulder as he took his weight. Morgana quickly switched into his van form and urged them inside.

 

“What’d you do to Fox?” Futaba asked curiously as she shut the door, Makoto at the wheel.

 

Akira shook his head. “It was just a temporary fix,” he answered, wincing at the pull of his shoulder.

 

“Are you alright?” Haru asked concernedly, but Akira just waved her off.

 

“I’m fine; I was able to heal myself,” he said. “We need to get to the hospital and check on him.”

 

“Now?” Ann asked incredulously.

 

“He should be okay now, at least physically,”  he said.

 

“Huh?” Ryuuji was much less eloquent in his confusion.

 

“You saw his Shadow,” Akira said, “that wasn’t from rage or some other twisted desire.”

 

“It... looked like self abuse,” Ann said soberly from her spot up at shotgun.

 

Akira closed his eyes, sighing sharply. “My best guess is that was how he views his art slump,” he finally said, the admission sour on his tongue. “He feels useless when he can’t create anything new.”

 

“Oh my goodness,” Haru breathed, hand covering her mouth.

 

“He beats himself up that much over it?” Ryuuji said.

 

Akira nodded. “It’s his soul, his calling; to him, not being able to fulfil that calling is nothing but absolute failure, and he feels as if he’s worthless.”

 

The words dropped like frozen rain, chilling the cabin of the van.

 

“That’s so… _awful,”_ Makoto said, “and to think that he felt that so strongly it was able to manifest in Mementos.”

 

“That’s why I need to see him,” Akira said immediately, breath catching and eyes snapping open as he realized the gravity of what he just said.

 

Futaba, from his left, nudged him. “He’ll be okay, I’m sure of it,” she said, but even her words felt uncertain. “After all that work, he can’t just disappear on us.”

 

“Yeah,” Akira said quietly, his own voice not quite convincing him.

 

_Please, let him be okay. Please._

 

_I can’t lose him._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll have you know I wrote this with Cruel Angel's Thesis playing on repeat in the dead of the night, so there's an image for you.  
> So, how'd I do? I hope my plot wasn't too hard to follow, but please let me know if you have any questions!


	4. Clematis

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tap. Tap. Tap.  
> Shatter.  
> Quick, pick up the pieces before they cut open the skin-  
> Quick, sew the heart back together.
> 
> Touch, warm, realize-  
> Love.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *wheezes* I'm sorry, this took longer than I expected- I just... I'm really bad at feelings and comfort and ugh just take it and go. This was pretty hard for me to get through, but I hope you all like it nonetheless! It's also a pretty long update, so be prepared!  
> There will be one epilogue-ish chapter after this about three months after the end of the game, so watch out for that. :)
> 
> I hope you enjoy, and thank you for all the love and just sticking with me in this wild ride! (I never meant for this to get so long...)

_[_ ** _Clematis_** ** _:_** _this flowering, climbing plant showcases and celebrates_ ** _mental prowess_** _in addition to_ ** _art_** _and_ ** _mental beauty._** _]_

 

They all stumbled out of Mementos and back into the booths of Leblanc, startling Sojiro in the process and realizing, at the sight of the evening sun streaming through the windows, that they’d spent nearly the entire day there.

 

With nary a greeting nor a rushed explanation, they’d all shoved their way toward the crowded train station in a frantic rush toward the hospital in Shibuya.

As they ran toward their destination, Akira could feel his heartbeat pounding in time to his feet on the concrete, each jolt bringing a spike of pain to his shoulder but he _just didn’t care,_ his mind instead an endless stream of _he has to be okay he has to be okay please let him be okay._

 

Legs and lungs burning, Akira burst through the front doors of the hospital, only stopping for a moment to catch his breath- just long enough for the female nurse from the day before to gape at them and say “Hey, it’s you kids from yesterday”- before he _sprinted_ past the front desk, faintly hearing Makoto throw a hasty “ _I’m sorry!”_ to the nurse as he raced down the halls, the rest of the group falling further behind from exhaustion. (He didn’t care that he was being reckless, as his mind was frozen on a single point of concentration.)

 

Thankfully, the halls in that section of the hospital were mostly empty, so Akira had no one to dodge as made his way toward the room that nurse (Hiromi? Hiroto?) had guided them to before. Then, finally- _finally-_ he found the door (Now neatly labeled KITAGAWA, Y.) and lurched inside, bracing himself on the edge of the door frame as he doubled over to catch his breath.

 

Then, he heard it, a soft, albeit perplexed “Akira?” from the center of the room, and Akira looked up to see Yusuke, now awake ( _He’s awake!)_ and looking confusedly at him, and Akira felt a surge of the warmest relief burst in his chest, sticky with disbelief. He froze then, just _looking_ at Yusuke, at the faint movements of his fingers, the subtle rise and fall of his chest, the strands of slightly messy hair that fell into his eyes, and his heart _soared_ \- until reality fell on his and he _shattered._

 

“Akira, are you alright? What’s going on?” Yusuke tried to ask, but before he could say anything else Akira had made his way across the room and wrapped Yusuke in a tight (though one-armed) hug, burying his face into Yusuke’s shoulder.

 

Yusuke, understandably surprised by the sudden appearance of Akira nearly in his lap immediately reciprocated the hug, and Akira could feel his nerves singing at the warm touch, the heartbeat he could feel, the _life_ he had wrapped himself in.

 

 _He’s alive, he’s okay, he’s here, he’s_ _here_ -

 

“Yes, I’m right here, and I don’t think I’m going anywhere,” Yusuke said suddenly, and Akira realized he’d been repeating the words like a desperate mantra into the skin of Yusuke’s shoulder. “What happened?” he tried again, voice gentle as if terrified of breaking Akira.

 

“I-” Akira nearly choked on the syllable, tongue clumsy, “I almost lost you- _We_ almost lost you.” His voice was a faint whisper, so small and broken.

 

At the sound of his voice, Akira  felt Yusuke’s breath hitch and pause before he felt Yusuke shift one of his hands to the nape of his neck, pulling Akira tighter to his chest. “I don’t know what happened, or _why_ I’m in this hospital,” he started, “but please, _please_ tell me what I did to make you cry.”

 

_Cry?_

 

Akira then realized with a skip of a heartbeat that he _had_ , in fact, been crying, if barely, but enough for it to scream volumes. _I thought_ _I_ _was supposed to comfort_ _him_ _._

 

Akira shook his head. “Just… just let me stay here, just for a minute. Please,” he whispered. Yusuke obliged, both falling into silence.

 

The pain behind his chest was gone along with the weight in his gut- it was _right,_ this moment, this breath, their heartbeats- it was just as it should be.

 

The moment was broken when voices came down the hallway, loud and raucous, until someone burst into the doorway, though Akira couldn’t see who. “Hey, kid, you can’t just sprint around in here like that!” the nurse from the desk- _Yui, that was her name-_ rushed out breathlessly.

 

“Like we said before, we’re sorry, we just-” he heard Makoto start, only to cut off when she presumably reached the doorway. “Oh.” (He could hear the others filing in, but he didn’t care)

 

“I’ll… leave you guys then,” Yui said slowly. “But be careful with him, okay? He just kinda woke up randomly and we don’t really know why.”

 

“I think we’ll be alright,” Makoto reassured her, a tinge of a slight laugh at her words, and the sound of heels on tile echoed away.

 

As the others fit themselves neatly into the room, Akira could feel Yusuke’s hand drop back to his back but didn’t loosen his grip as he addressed the rest of the group.

 

“You’re okay!” Futaba cheered, along with the other relieved replies of the others.

 

“Seriously, what on earth happened?” Yusuke asked, and Akira decided to sit up, scrubbing a hand over his eyes, dropping his arm just enough to expose the injured arm cradled to his chest.

 

Yusuke froze, eyes catching on the movement. “Is that... _blood_?” he asked incredulously, confusing Akira until he felt hands tug at his left shoulder, inspecting. Nimble fingers pried at the (apparently stained) collar of Akira’s shirt, drawing a noise of indignation from Akira as he tried to squirm away to no avail.

 

Eventually, Yusuke won the battle and ended up peeling the fabric of Akira’s shoulder down to reveal the puckered gunshot wound from Tanaka, crusted over and oozing freshly, probably from his erratic run.

 

Yusuke looked Akira dead in the eye. “Tell me. What. Happened,” he said succinctly, and Akira winced at his tone, which bordered between worried and reprimanded.

 

“Because he was being _reckless_ , Akira managed to get himself _shot_ , _”_ Ann cut in dryly, her arms crossed over her chest and one eyebrow raised high.

 

“You _what?”_ Yusuke, head whipping back to Akira, demanded breathlessly.

 

Akira smiled helplessly, tugging his shirt back up out of Yusuke’s grip. “It’s nothing a little bit of medicine can’t help,” he answered. Yusuke didn’t look convinced.

 

Ryuuji, who was standing closest to Akira, smacked him upside the head.

 

“Ow- damn, what was _that_ for?” Akira wheezed, rubbing the back of his head.

 

“You just sent us all on a mission to _save the life_ of one of our teammates, and now you’re going to treat _yourself_ like shit? Dick move, dude,” Ryuuji drawled.

 

“A little harsher than I would have put it, but the sentiment is the same nonetheless,” Makoto said, and Akira looked up to see them all giving him the same disapproving look.

 

When he looked to Yusuke, however, his face was no longer upset- no, now there was a surprised (though more embarrassed) look there with pale pink in its wake.

 

Morgana chose that moment to hop up on the bed, seating himself by Yusuke’s feet. “Guys, let’s just have a moment to breathe, okay? We’re all alive, _Yusuke_ is alive, _and_ we took down Tanaka,” he reminded.

 

Yusuke knit his brows at his words before looking to the rest of the group. “You defeated Tanaka?” he asked, and they nodded. “But… how? We couldn’t get in a single hit the last time we tried to attacked him.”

 

“Love works in mysterious ways,” Futaba snickered mischievously, and Akira felt his face go red.

 

Yusuke turned to him questioningly. “What?”

 

“We’ll just explain everything after we all get back to Leblanc, okay?” Akira deflected, and he saw Futaba roll her eyes out of the corner of his vision.

 

“We should probably get your shoulder treated while we’re here, Akira,” Haru piped up, “since we do happen to be in a hospital.”

 

“I’ll go find a nurse,” Ann announced, and walked out of the room with a wave after yelling a quick “I’m glad you’re okay, Yusuke!”

 

Yusuke was still puzzled, looking around the room to each person in search of an answer. “I’m still very perplexed,” he said, “what did I miss?”

 

“A lot,” Ryuuji deadpanned.

 

Yusuke’s face only narrowed further into confusion.

 

\---

 

After a _very_ thorough checkup which yielded nothing but a perfect bill of health (and a group of incredibly confused doctors), Yusuke was cleared to leave the hospital, though the trip back to Leblanc was delayed due to the rest of the group forcing Akira to have his arm checked.

 

Eventually, they all left the hospital with a now-healthy Yusuke and Akira with a bound shoulder and a sling, the former stubbornly refusing to let Akira walk on his own, even to the point of letting Akira brace against him during the crushing train ride home, shoulder to shoulder and hip to hip, Yusuke holding onto the bar and Akira onto the back of Yusuke’s shirt.

 

Akira, albeit slightly embarrassed at the attention, accepted the help, feeling something guiltily warm sneak and tug around his lungs like a flower’s inks dissolving in water; warm and calming, yet sleepily vibrant and so _present_ at the gentle touch of Yusuke’s skin (alive and thrumming with a heartbeat) against his own.

(He wanted to shove away the joy, the pleasant feeling it sparked, but he was too damn _selfish_ to let it fade. _Alive alive alive, he’s here and he’s alive and he’s_ _right there,_ his mind screamed in glee.)

 

Back in the seats of Leblanc, everyone settled down impatiently, now all staring at Akira- Sojiro included, loitering and half-listening behind the counter- expectantly. Akira had seated himself in one of the bar chairs next to Yusuke, and had been tugging experimentally at the edge of his sling when someone (Futaba) cleared their throat. Looking up, he saw met all of their looks with a cautious one of his own before sighing deeply. “I guess I have quite a bit to explain,” he started.

 

“Damn straight,” Ryuuji replied, leaning back from the edge of the table and crossing his arms.

 

“You have secrets and explanations for all of us, Yusuke included,” Makoto added, and Akira rubbed at the back of his neck sheepishly.

 

“Where should I start then ?” he asked tentatively.

 

“Well, to start, maybe you should try explaining the mess that happened in Mementos and work your way back?” Ann suggested.

 

“Why don’t you try explaining your bonds again for Yusuke first and _then_ Mementos, ” Morgana, who’d jumped up into Akira’s lap, suggested softly, tail lazily flicking over the edge of the seat.

 

Catching the curious eye of Yusuke, he took a deep breath before starting from the beginning, describing his marks and demonstrating the connections just as he’d done in the hospital with the others. Yusuke watched in awe as the marks light up, entranced by their glow as he watched them travel around the room as Akira called out different names. (When Akira had summoned Ryuuji’s mark, Yusuke had actually leaned over and grabbed Akira’s wrist to examine it, mindful of his sling, running gentle fingers over the scar lines glowing softly under his touch, eyes bright and curious. Akira had frozen at the touch, feeling sparks burn when fingertips pressed into the mark, and he’d had to quietly call Yusuke’s name to break whatever trance he was stuck in so that he could release Akira’s wrist, face sheepish and apologetic.)

 

Akira had saved Yusuke’s bond for last once again, nervous, almost _embarrassed_ fingers trembling before he pressed them to the scar anyway, and watched hesitantly as Yusuke gasped and held a hand to his own heart, utterly surprised and _enraptured_ as the bond was fully opened to him. “This is…” he breathed reverently, eyes widening,  “I _know_ this.”

 

Akira looked at him in confusion, eyebrows narrowing, mirroring the rest of the looks from the other side of the room.

 

Yusuke’s eyes closed in some deep thought, concentrating. “I’ve felt it before, somewhere… ah!” His eyes snapped back open in realization. “Yes, that’s it!”

 

“What?” Akira asked.

 

Yusuke turned to him. “The day I first asked you to help with my art, in Mementos, and then again when I confided in you about my slump!” he answered, his cheery tone clashing sharply with his words.

 

 _Art slump…_ Akira felt something sharp twist at his heart.  His nails curled into the palm of his hand.

 

“Wait wait wait, you’re telling me you could feel that, and that you _recognized it_ ? _”_ Ryuuji asked incredulously.

 

“ _I_ wasn’t aware of the bond’s feeling until Akira first showed us,” Makoto added.

 

Yusuke cocked his head in confusion. “Really? But it’s so… _warm_ , sort of like the feeling of being home,” he said, “it’s quite the unmistakeable feeling.”

 

At that, just about everyone in the room spare Sojiro and Ryuuji turned to look at Akira dubiously, _knowingly_ , asking another question that needed no words.

 

Once again, Akira’s free fingers found their way to his bangs, nervously tugging at the strands and looking vehemently away from their searching eyes.

 

“Akira? Why are they looking at you like that?’ Yusuke asked, “Did I say something wrong?”

 

“No! No, no you didn’t,” Akira answered too quickly, wincing at how loud his response was.

 

Yusuke gave him another look of confusion, so soft and incredibly _clueless_ that Akira didn’t know if he should feel relieved or frustrated. (He picked the former.)

 

“Well… now that _that’s_ out of the way,” Morgana piped up, changing the subject, “let’s talk about Mementos.”

 

(Akira gently run a hand down Morgana’s back in a silent _thank you,_ and he felt a gentle purr in response.)

 

“Oh yeah! Let’s see if we can puzzle it all together,” Ann suggested, and they all began to put together a patchwork retelling of what had happened from the night Yusuke disappeared. Yusuke had blanched when he learned how long he’d been unconscious for, and that the reason he’d fallen unconscious in the first place was a non-fatal gunshot wound to his Shadow.

 

At the mention of his Shadow being held hostage by Tanaka, he’d shaken his head in confusion and held up a hand to stop the torrent of voices. “My Shadow? But I haven’t had any malevolent desires that would warrant it appearing in Mementos,” he said.

 

The room held its breath at his question, and Akira felt a wrench in his stomach like a rusty knife, hot, guilty, and sickening.

 

Morgana broke the silence once more. “As I explained to these guys, it doesn’t necessarily need to be some _evil_ desire to manifest a Shadow,” he said slowly. “As long as the desire, guilt, fear or any other emotion reaches a point of negativity that ends up consuming that person.”

 

The look on Yusuke’s face was so heartbreakingly _confused_ at Morgana’s response, as if he truly couldn’t visualize something that could devour him so darkly. “I don’t…” his voice trailed off, eyes cast toward the ground in bitter concentration, nimble hands running over each other.

 

Akira closed his eyes, taking an even breath before answering. “Yusuke,” he barely whispered, “it was your art block.”

 

Yusuke froze.

 

“It was...pretty gruesome to see,” Ann said sadly, “like you’d been through a shredder.”

 

Akira heard Yusuke’s breath catch, squeezing his hands. Something dark and ugly pulsed behind the mark on Akira’s chest, something so deep-set and sharp and _visceral_ that it made Akira wince. It was black, and it was deadly, cold as ice and slow as poison. ( _Hatred. No, something deeper than that-)_

 

“Well, I-” Yusuke tried to say something, but he closed his eyes and shook his head sharply, straightening back up. “Why... don’t you tell me how you defeated Tanaka then?” he asked helplessly, trying to shift the attention off of himself. _Don’t look at me- don’t look at my ugliness._

 

“O-okay,” Makoto answered. She cleared her throat. “After that, we were all stuck, as Tanaka still had his shield up, rendering any attack ineffective.”

 

Yusuke nodded, eyes still on the ground despite him listening. “How were you able to get around it then? It proved an immense amount of trouble for us last time.”

 

“That was when… well,” Makoto trailed off, eyes flickering toward Akira.

 

“What is it?” Yusuke asked, eyes finally lifting back to meet the rest of the group.

 

“That was when Akira somehow spoke to you- sorry, your Shadow, and it was able to intervene,” Haru finished.

 

“He… _spoke_ to me? What do you mean?” Yusuke replied.

 

Haru paused, before turning to Akira. Akira fidgeted in his seat.

 

“We weren’t able to understand what he was saying, as-” Makoto started, but Futaba cut her off impatiently.

 

“Do you know how to speak French, Inari?” she asked, leaning forward on the table to peer at him.

 

Yusuke jumped in surprise. “I- yes, I do, as Madarame often had European clients that I would occasionally have to work with,” he answered, “why do you ask?”

 

Futaba sat back before propping one elbow on her knee to peer teasingly at Akira. “Why don’t you ask Akira?”

 

The party turned back toward Akira, waiting.

 

“I did promise I’d explain it to you,” Akira answered, a touch sheepish.

 

“Uh-huh,” Ann said expectantly.

 

“Akira?” Yusuke said gently.

 

_You knew you’d have to explain it some day._

 

Akira sighed. _I’m aware, Arsène._

 

Akira turned to Yusuke first. “In Mementos, I was able to communicate with your Shadow to distract Tanaka-”

 

“Which _was_ pretty badass,” Ryuuji interrupted, only to have Ann sharply shush him.

 

 _“-but_ I chose French, as I knew _you’d_ be able to understand while leaving Tanaka clueless. He wasn’t too happy about that,” Akira finished, raising his sling in sarcastic emphasis.

 

“So he shot you because you were talking with my Shadow?” Yusuke reiterated.

 

Akira nodded.

 

“Which brings us to the million dollar question,” Futaba sang, “how come _you_ can speak French?”

 

Akira resisted the urge to groan, and the impulse grew more tempting when he heard the melodic laugh of Arsène at the back of his mind.

 

Yusuke frowned. “You didn’t tell them?” he asked softly.

 

Akira shrugged. “The topic never came up, and it’s never been relevant.” His answer was a touch bitter, as he purposely kept his heritage hidden due to the much more _unforgiving_ outlook of outsiders in the heart of Tokyo.

 

“Tell us what?” Ann asked.

 

Yusuke looked back to Akira, silently asking permission, to which Akira reluctantly nodded. “A few months ago, I came into Leblanc before it had opened, and when I arrived I heard someone on the phone,” he started. “I eventually saw that it was Akira on the phone with his mother, and I belatedly realized that the entire conversation had _not_ been in Japanese. Eventually, after he’d gotten off the phone, he realized I’d been there the whole time, much to his… disgruntlement.”

 

Akira snorted at that, his response simultaneous with Ryuuji’s remark of “Oh come on, what does that even _mean?”_

 

“He didn’t calm down until after I’d confided in him my own experience with French, which for some reason only made him more panicked…” Yusuke had trailed off in confused thought, apparently legitimately perplexed at the event until Akira  put his good hand on his shoulder to quiet him, face wildly pink.

 

He picked up at Yusuke’s lull before he could say anything else damning. “I’m half-French; my mother met my father while he was on a business trip in France,” he hurriedly explained. “While she can mostly speak Japanese, it’s easier for her to remain in French and vice versa with my father, and thus I grew up hearing and speaking both.”

 

Hums of understanding and realization filled the air, and Makoto paused with an expression on her face like that of a gear clicking into place. “When you were doing that tracking spell with Arsène…” she started, before shaking her head and starting over, an index finger tapping at her cheek, “Arsène doesn’t speak Japanese, does he?”

 

Akira was shocked for a minute before slowly shaking his head, the smallest of grins on his face. “He’s the gentleman thief of _France_ , not Tokyo,” he said coolly.

 

“Ohhhh, that makes a lot of sense actually….” Futaba answered, one hand thoughtfully tapping at her chin.

 

“That’s so _cool!_ ” Ryuuji blurted.

 

“Though it is rather odd that while Akira’s name is _Joker,_ he’s the one with the French Persona as opposed to _Noir,”_ Yusuke pointed out.

 

Akira shrugged, but Morgana spoke up in his stead. “Considering it’s a part of his personality, and thus his _soul,_ it does fit rather well.”

 

“I guess that does make more sense,” Haru said, nodding.

 

“Now…. you’re not gonna use your French against us, are ya?” Futaba asked slyly, looking between Akira and Yusuke.

 

Yusuke knit his eyebrows. “We haven’t before, so why would we now?” he asked sincerely.

 

Futaba wasn’t swayed, her eyes near devilish behind the giant lenses. “You’re not planning on doing anything _naughty,_ right?” she pushed, voice sugar-sweet and emphatic enough to make even Yusuke’s ears turn cherry red before he started sputtering.

 

“That’s _entirely_ inappropriate, Futaba!” he choked, eyes wild and aghast at the now-cackling Futaba, who’d fallen back to the seat and was now leaning against Ryuuji as she laughed. Akira just covered his face helplessly, shaking his head.

 

“ _That_ aside,” Makoto interrupted swiftly, shooting Futaba a sharp look, “I think we’ve got just about everything cleared up,” she said to Akira.

 

Dropping his hand, Akira caught her eye and nodded. “Is there anything else I can explain?” he asked.

 

“Well, I was curious about your marks and how strong, or _sensitive_ , or whatever they are-” Ann started, but was cut off by Sojiro, who’d remained quiet for the conversation, clearing his throat (much to Akira’s relief).

 

“I’m sorry to interrupt, but it’s getting rather late and I don’t want anyone getting in trouble,” he said sternly.

 

“Damn, yeah, I need to get home or my mom’ll be on my ass,” Ryuuji muttered, before extricating himself from the booth.

 

“Yeah, I guess gotta go too,” Ann added, standing and smoothing down her skirt.

 

“I guess this means goodnight, everybody,” Makoto said. She turned to Yusuke. “I’m sincerely glad you’re alright, Yusuke,” she said warmly.

 

“After the amount of strife you all went through to rescue me, I am extremely grateful to each and every one of you,” Yusuke said soberly, looking to each in turn with a gentle smile and a bow of his head. “Thank you, I am indebted to you.”

 

( _His words are too stiff, he’s off- something’s wrong. Was it what I said?)_

 

“There’s no need to be so formal,” Akira said, gently nudging Yusuke’s ankle with his foot.

 

“Yeah, you’re our friend, ain’t ya? ‘S not like we were just gonna abandon you, ‘specially with Akira freakin’ out like that-” Ryuuji started before earning a sharp glare from Akira.

 

“ _Ryuuji.”_

 

“What?”

 

Ann poked Ryuuji in the side in warning before heading toward the door with Makoto just behind her. “Good night guys! Talk with you tomorrow,” she said cheerily, before the chime of the door sounded her departure along with Makoto’s, who’d waved goodbye as well as she stepped out.

 

“Thank you very much for the hospitality,” Haru said politely before leaving as well, grabbing Yusuke’s hand with a warm and relieved smile as she passed by and walked out.

 

“You need money to head back to the dorms?” Ryuuji asked Yusuke, hands in his pockets.

 

“I-”

 

“He can stay here for the night,” Akira answered, surprising not only Yusuke but Sojiro as well.

 

Sojiro rubbed the back of his neck, considering.

 

“Would that be alright? I wouldn’t want to intrude,” Yusuke said to him.

 

“Well, since you just got out of the hospital… yeah, I don’t have a problem with it, just as long as you two don’t make a mess,” Sojiro answered. Akira flashed him a grateful smile.

 

“Thank you very much, Boss,” Yusuke answered.

 

Ryuuji raised an eyebrow at Akira and Yusuke, but only shrugged. “If you’re all set, then imma head out now,” he said, “‘night guys.”

 

Akira waved him off before the door shut with the sound of footsteps fading out into the street.

 

“Well, we better head off as well,” Sojiro said. “C’mon Futaba, let’s go.”

 

Futaba leaned forward again, scrutinizing the two once more despite Sojiro. “Are you _sure_ you aren’t gonna do any naughty French things?”

 

_“Futaba.”_

 

 _“_ Oops.”

 

“Leave them alone,” he scolded gently.

 

       She smiled sheepishly- but somehow still remained impish despite it. “Sorry, Sojiro.”

 

Shaking his head and muttering something that sounded like “ _Teenagers”,_ the Sakuras left Leblanc with Sojiro’s parting words of “Be careful, and don’t forget to lock up, alright?”, and Akira and Yusuke were left alone in the quiet air of the shop.

 

“Well,” Yusuke eventually said cheerily, “shall we head upstairs?”

 

(But something in his smile was too thin, too stretched, too narrow, too _wrong_.)

\---

 

 

After cleaning up the miscellaneous cups and plates from the others, Yusuke and Akira had made their way up to the attic without a single word exchanged between them; the atmosphere was even heavy enough for Morgana to read, and he announced that he was going to “walk around for some alone time” and had made his way out of the shop, leaving the two alone.

 

Akira, having carefully shucked off his sling, felt uneasy as he set up the extra futon, sneaking small glances toward Yusuke, who was sitting silently on the couch. Akira felt as if he was walking on eggshells and shards of glass, one wrong step away from slicing open his skin.

 

 _There’s something wrong, but…. I can’t push it,_ he thought to himself. _He’s too quiet. (_ Akira had never seen Yusuke’s hands, normally tapping or fluttering or _moving_ so still before, spare when he’d been unconscious in the hospital. It was unnerving.)

 

Eventually, the silence in the room became monstrous, pressing down onto Akira’s shoulders and pooling in his chest like cooling lead. Sighing quietly, he sat down on the floor in front of Yusuke, gently tapping Yusuke’s knee to notify him of his presence. Yusuke _flinched_ , the movement so faint that is was barely noticeable, but it still struck Akira like lightning. His heart hiccuped. “You want to get ready for  bed?” Akira asked gently, finally shattering the awful silence. “I think I have some spare clothes you can wear.”

 

Yusuke finally looked down at him, expression uneven and staticky, as if he couldn’t quite decide what expression what to wear. His eyes, however, were an entirely different story: they burned in cold pain, as if a shard of ice had lodged itself into his heart and had melted into acid. Those eyes were broken, hopeless, _guilty-_ but worst of all was a strain of suffering so deep-set it pulled the breath from Akira’s lungs: self-hatred.

 

Yusuke’s mind finally seemed to warm back up, realizing that he needed to respond, and mumbled a quiet “thank you” before jerkily standing up, usual grace turned into snapped puppet strings.

 

A chord of pain ripped through Akira. _Wrong, wrong, wrong, wrong- This is like the night he came to me about his art slump, but he wasn’t this, this…._ He couldn't find a word, a response, _anything_ ; he felt _useless._

 

 

Yusuke paused halfway across the room, back facing Akira, before he finally spoke up. “My Shadow…. What- what did it look like?” he asked, words fragile and guilty and small, as if he regretted saying them.

 

Akira paused. “What?”

 

Yusuke didn’t turn around, but Akira saw his hands curl into fists. “You said it was a reflection of my art block,” he replied, “what did it look like?”

 

Confused by the question. Akira didn’t answer, sifting through Yusuke’s words until a realization settled sharply in his mind. _What did the others see?_

 

_He didn’t want the others to know that he’d been weak? Was that it?_

 

Akira stood hesitantly, but stopped at the feeling of something nudging him in the back of his mind. _Do you really want to tell him? The truth might break him,_ Arsène warned.

 

 _Weren’t you the one who pushed me toward him in the first place?_ Akira asked, slightly bitter at the switch in mentality.

 

Arsène only hummed lightly. _Your concerns are also echoed in my voice, Joker,_ he answered cryptically. Akira pushed him aside for the time being before he carefully made his way over to Yusuke.

 

“Yusuke,” he said quietly, gently placing a hand on Yusuke’s shoulder and gently pulling him forward until they were face to face, “do you really want to know?”

 

Akira felt Yusuke freeze up under his touch, and Akira peered up toward Yusuke to try and see his face, but Yusuke had hidden his eyes underneath his dark bangs. (Akira felt his heartbeat race in wary warning) “Yusuke?”

 

“Just- tell me,” Yusuke spit out, words still quiet but sharply angled and harsh, as if he was preparing himself for a slap to the face.  Yusuke still refused to look Akira in the face, his hands still clenched sharply at his sides.

 

Akira dropped his hand, sucking in a deep breath and trying to dispel the sick feeling in his stomach.

 

Gently, he raised a hand to Yusuke’s face, his words softer than any psalm or prayer for fear of breaking Yusuke. “Your face… you’d scratched the skin open, and your right eye…” he swept his fingers underneath Yusuke’s bangs, running his fingertips under the edge of his eye, “was blind. You were crying.” Akira heard Yusuke’s breath hitch, but he kept going, his faint touch moving to Yusuke’s throat. Akira could feel the breath pull at the skin of it. “Your throat was open, like your vocal chords had been-” _ripped out._ “-removed.” Yusuke said nothing, but Akira saw his hands start shaking. “Your lips had been sewn shut as well,” Akira added sadly, and Yusuke’s breath slipped again, restrained and shackled as if forcing himself to be quiet. Akira closed his eyes in a guilty wince before continuing.

 

Both hands now lifting up to him, Akira traced the lines of Yusuke’s arms, but it wasn’t until his thumbs eventually pressed into the pulse points of Yusuke’s inner wrists that Akira spoke again. “Your skin was pale and deathly, and all over your skin and your chest were lines of scars, some fresh and some old,” he said, before releasing his wrists and pressing a single hand over Yusuke’s heart, feeling it beat and race beneath his touch. (He also heard the beginnings of rain tapping at his window in time to Yusuke’s heartbeat. _That’s right, it’s supposed to storm tonight-)_ “Your chest was cut open and exposed, and your ribcage was riddled with needles that pressed into your lungs,” Akira’s own breath hitched, “into your _heart.”_ Akira’s eyes burned as he reached for Yusuke’s hands, gently uncurling them and running his own fingers down the soft skin of Yusuke’s palms. “Your hands…” Akira couldn’t get the words out, stuck in his throat in a weak whisper, squeezing Yusuke’s hands in his own.

 

“What about my hands?” Yusuke asked quietly, voice boxed and terrified. (The rain started falling harder, each a pinprick of a watery scream)

 

Akira shook his head, eyes slipping shut as the images of Yusuke’s Shadow flickered through his head, the sounds of his screams from his nightmares pressing against his eyelids.

 

“Akira, please,” Yusuke said desperately, and Akira could hear the bite of tears wavering underneath his words.

 

Akira opened his mouth before clenching his teeth, his grip on Yusuke’s hands tightening. He started again. “Your wrists were shackled, and your hands were… _ruined_ , _”_ Yusuke’s fingers tightened in Akira’s, “some of your fingers were broken and a few were missing, and those that weren’t were torn apart by pins or needles inserted underneath your nails.”

 

“I…” Yusuke tried to say something, but his voice finally dissolved into tears, and he pulled his hands out of Akira’s and pressed them to his face as he staggered back from him.

 

“Yusuke-” Akira tried, arm reached out toward him, but Yusuke cut him off.

 

 _“No,_ no, don’t look at me,” Yusuke gasped, his knees giving out as he slid to the floor, hunched over as he pressed his hands into his eyes.

 

“Yu-”

 

 _“Don’t look at me!”_ Yusuke screamed, and Akira flinched. Yusuke _never_ raised his voice, and when he did it was _never_ at Akira. “My own failures so horribly potent they put you all in danger, so _disgusting_ and sinful and burdensome-”

 

 _“Yusuke!”_ Akira cried, so horrified by the words he was hearing as he fell in front of Yusuke and cupped his hands around Yusuke’s face.

 

“-and you all saw how _pathetic_ I am to my own fate, my own calling, and-and you all wasted your energy to _save_ me, and you were injured because of me and, and, and-”

 

“Yusuke, _breathe-”_

 

“You should have just left me to _die,”_ Yusuke finished with a choked sob, and Akira felt his heart _shatter._ (Was it just his own, or was it Yusuke’s heartbeat echoed just underneath the mark on Akira’s chest? It was too jumbled and _painful_ to piece together) Lightning flashed and thunder shrieked outside.

 

“Hey hey hey, woah, slow down,” Akira rushed out, pulling Yusuke’s hands away from his face. Yusuke closed his eyes, his face wet with tears. “Look at me,” Akira said gently, thumbs sweeping underneath Yusuke’s eyes. Yusuke didn’t open his eyes, but he gently wrapped his fingers around Akira’s wrists, searching for solace in the warmth of Akira’s touch.

 

 _What went from him being ashamed of his block managed to fester into pure self-hatred,_ Akira thought sadly, _and now_ _it’s eating him away. (Please don’t shut me out, please don’t run from me-)_

 

“Yusuke, you’re not pathetic, nor are you useless,” Akira said quietly, “but you’re human- are you not allowed to hurt? To be stuck?” (Arsène smiled at the question, hearing his own words echoed aloud)

 

Yusuke took in a shuddering breath. “What is a blind man to literature, a deaf man to music, a sinner to happiness?” he asked instead, diverting Akira’s question and startling him into silence. “You already know the answer,” Yusuke finished helplessly, eyelids fluttering against the sting of tears.

 

Akira smiled sadly. “A blind man reads worlds through his fingers, Ludwig van Beethoven composed beautiful music despite him being deaf for the last decade of his life, and the heart of a sinner can be changed, can repent,” he answered, and felt Yusuke freeze. “They are just as human as you are.”

 

Finally- _finally-_ Yusuke’s eyes opened to meet Akira’s, their blue turned aquamarine by the tears spilling down his cheeks. “You…” he breathed, “why?”

 

Akira cocked his head. “Why what?

 

Yusuke’s grip tightened on Akira’s hands as tears spilled anew down his face. “Why do you _bother_ so much with me? Why do you let me go on and on when I know you aren’t interested? Why did you put yourself through hell just for me? _Why?”_ (The storm raged on, the scent of rain and wind and thunder seeping between the seals of the windows)

 

 

Akira froze, unable to respond.

 

Yusuke’s eyes shut again as his breath grew more ragged, grip turning bruising on Akira. “Why were you so terrified when I woke up yet simultaneously so _relieved?_ Why do you feel like home, like a constant calm, like peace to me? Why does _my_ mark sit over your heart? _Why do you care so much for me?”_

_It’s because I-_

 

“I-”

 

“What have I done to earn such kindnesses, such forgiveness?”

 

_Because I lo-_

 

(the storm _screamed_ -)

 

“Yusuke, I-”

 

“I don’t deserve you,” Yusuke finished, voice breaking, when Akira slipped his one of his hands behind Yusuke’s head and wrapped the other in the front of Yusuke’s shirt to pull his face towards Akira’s, and Akira pressed his lips firmly against Yusuke’s, simultaneously silencing as well as answering him.

 

Though Akira had shut his eyes, he could feel how Yusuke had gone stiff with shock and felt a firecracker of fear that he’d misjudged and done the wrong thing before Yusuke _melted_ into Akira, wrapping his arms around Akira’s neck and pulling him close. (Yusuke tasted of salt, but Akira didn’t care)

 

( _Well done, Joker- once again, you have faced yourself and in turn, your fears.)_

 

Out of breath, Akira broke the kiss, pulling back to look at Yusuke’s face, which he noticed with a sunburst of happiness was no longer blotchy from tears and instead a lovely blush of red. Akira closed his eyes again and pressed his forehead to Yusuke’s, feeling Yusuke’s breath fan over his face.

 

 _“Why?”_ Yusuke asked, voice now breathless as opposed to his previous desperation.

 

“Didn’t I just answer that?” Akira breathed, and felt Yusuke huff a half-hearted laugh.

 

“I suppose you answered that question yes, but in doing so you raised another,” Yusuke said.

 

“And what is that?” Akira asked.

 

“Why would you choose me?” Yusuke replied, voice soft and insecure.

 

Akira pressed a kiss to Yusuke’s forehead before leaning back, enjoying the blush that darkened tenfold over his face before sitting back, taking Yusuke’s hands in his own. “Because despite all of your imperfections, your trauma, your history, you remain as beautiful on the the inside as you are on the outside,” Akira answered candidly, his own cheeks warming as he heard the words leave his mouth.

 

Yusuke looked utterly flabbergasted, eyes wide and owlish. “Do you really mean that?”

 

Akira nodded, a shy smile pulling at his lips.

 

Yusuke tilted his head. “But… you’ve seen me in the most horrible of times, you’ve seen my failures, how _pathetic_ I was, you saw my _Shadow-”_

 

Akira squeezed his hands, quieting him. “There is nothing pathetic in being stuck or needing help,” he said. “I’ve seen the darkest places of your heart, have _felt_ the darkest places of your heart, and they’ve done nothing but show me _you._ Everyone has dark corners in them, and there is no shame to be had in falling victim to them sometimes. What matters is how you make yourself out of those downs.”

 

Yusuke stared at him again before _laughing_ , the sound bubbling over in rich, gorgeous colors that blended perfectly with the sound of the storm outside. “I’m a fool, aren’t I?” he asked helplessly, pulling one of his hands away to rub away the tears on his face.

 

Akira laughed quiet, before pulling Yusuke’s fingers to his lips, once again startling the other boy. “You can break break as many times as you need, but know that I will _always_ be there to help pick you back up.”

     Another one of Yusuke’s laughs rang out through the room, and Akira’s smile grew impossibly wide over his face at the sound of it. “Thank you, Akira,” Yusuke said suddenly, and Akira nodded.

 

     “We should get some rest,” Akira suggested, and heard Yusuke hum in agreement.

 

“It is rather late,” he said, peering over Akira’s shoulder to see the clock on the work desk. (His words slurred in exhaustion, and Akira knew it wasn’t due to how late it was.)

 

Eventually they’d be able to get settled in without further incident, until Yusuke had tapped Akira as he was climbing into bed. “Would… it be too forward to ask if you could sleep with me?” he asked.

 

Akira felt his face go red at the phrasing, and Yusuke realized what he’d said and waved his hands frantically. “No no no, that’s _not_ what I meant,” he spluttered, “I just…. I’d like to have someone beside me so as to stave off nightmares.”

 

Akira answered by settling himself next to Yusuke with his own blanket around his shoulders, creating a big blanket/futon nest. “The bed’s too small for two, so I figured it’d be easiest for me to join you down here,” he said simply, and Yusuke choked a laugh.

 

“I do hope your back won’t get sore,” Yusuke said, concerned.

 

“Nah, I don’t think I’ll have a problem with that,” Akira replied before tugging Yusuke down. “Now come on, _sleep_.”

 

“Mmhm.”

 

They settled into each other, warm and cozy as they listened to the storm sing them to sleep. Akira more felt than heard Yusuke when suddenly asked “How long have you… _. had feelings_ for me?”and felt like laughing. So shyly put and old-fashioned, yet perfectly _Yusuke._

 

 _“_ Hm, I’m not sure when I first noticed, but I remember realizing just how _important_ you’d become to me and… well, you can blame Arsène for that, since he pushed me,” Akira answered, his reply a murmur into the sleepy warmth of the air.

 

“Really? Arsène?”

 

Akira hummed. “I think you’re pretty much the only one who didn’t notice,” he teased, “even _Ryuuji_ managed to get a clue.”

 

Akira felt Yusuke freeze incredulously. “I- are you _serious_?”

 

Akira laughed at that, a bright paint splatter of a sound in the dark of the room, and he pressed his back into Yusuke’s chest. “Yusuke, why do you think the mark of The Emperor- _your mark-_ sits over my heart?”

 

He felt Yusuke bury his face into Akira’s hair, obviously embarrassed. _“I’m sorry,”_ he mumbled, words blurring into sleepy French that made Akira’s heart sing. (He did love how Yusuke spoke the language, but he’d never gotten around to telling him.)

 

Another laugh, but this one stayed stuck in Akira’s chest, warming him from the inside out. _“Don’t be. I think everyone knows that if they want to get something across to you they need to spell it out, sometimes quite literally.”_

 

Yusuke sighed, his breath fanning over Akira’s scalp and drawing warm tingles across the skin. Then, after a heartbeat of a pause, Akira felt a hand sneak around his chest until it pressed just over Akira’s heart. Closing his eyes, he smiled, and pressed his hand over Yusuke’s and faintly activated the bond so warm gold would spill out from between their fingers.

 

 _“It is rather beautiful,”_ Yusuke barely mumbled, until deep breaths announced that he’d finally been able to fall asleep.

 

 _“Funny, that’s what I’ve always said,”_ Akira murmured to himself, feeling sleep’s edges tug at the edges of his consciousness.

 

The sound of rain drummed against the roof and thunder howled in the distance; the feeling of a soft blanket wrapped around his legs and the indescribable warmth of Yusuke tangled up with him warmed him from the soul out, and he could feel Yusuke’s heartbeat echoing against his back.

Akira had never felt more at peace.

 

_I guess Yusuke was right-_

_This_ _is_ _what home feels like._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... how'd I do? I don't do fluff or nice things or /kisses/ but holy shit I did it. Please lemme know how I did! :D


	5. Zinnia

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cotton-candy warmth, a welcome of lovely bright sparks,  
> Summer-stained laziness, intertwined fingers:  
> A chaotic whirlwind of a homecoming-  
> A welcome home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I  
> jesus  
> This took way longer than I intended  
> I got distracted with another fandom, and when I sat down to finish this I did NOT intend for it to be literal 10k of the sappiest sap I have ever written holy cow  
> But it's here!! It's DONE!!  
> Thank you to all who stuck through and read- your kind words mean so much to me!  
> Now, without further ado, please enjoy: sap sap SAP, meeting the parents, coming out (sorta), and love confessions, not to mention memes, innuendos, and horror-movie shenanigans  
> (Another note- I know Akira's parents were vaguely supposed to be somewhat cold, but I had too much fun with writing his mother to keep it like that, so I left the cold aspect to his absent father.)  
> As always, comments and critiques are highly appreciated!!

_[_ **_Zinnia_ ** _:_ _Blooming in the mid-summer season, these bright flowers represent **lasting love** and **thoughts of an absent friend.** ] _

 

Three months.

It’s been _three months_ since they defeated Masayoshi, defeated the Holy Grail- no, _Yaldabaoth,_ saving all of Japan from a damn _apocalypse,_ three months since Akira was allowed to return home- three months since the Metaverse was shut down and the power of the Phantom Thieves dissolved, the bonds burnt into Akira’s skin now nothing more than tiny, near-invisible scars hidden all over his body.

 

It’s been three months since Akira last saw all of his friends, now only able to see them as icons next to endless streams of texts that have started to lose their voices, their _faces,_ and it numbed Akira more than he realized. He missed them- _all_ of them:  Ryuuji’s shameless volume and brash heart, Ann’s never-ending sweet tooth and her endless cheerfulness, Makoto’s soft side hidden underneath her cool intellect, Haru’s cotton-candy kindness, Futaba’s sly tongue and whimsical eccentricities, and…

 

Yusuke, his kind heart, his old-fashioned elegance, his beautiful mind and colorful tongue as bright as the paints he spilled- Akira missed the bright fingerprints that he used to have twined between his own, missed the feeling of another heart humming above his- yes, he missed the one his heart had decided to claim as its own. _(Stop being so sappy, Akira, you’ll see him again soon enough.)_

 

Now, it was a boring and hot day of summer break, and Akira was laying half-asleep in his bed as he scrolled through the messages he had missed from the night before, sitting up with a groan (and an irritated mew from Morgana) before tapping out a reply.

 

 **Akira** _(10:47)_

You probably won’t see this in time, but good luck on all of your finals.

 **Akira** _(10:47)_

I finished mine a week before you guys, so I’m already on break- maybe I could come visit?

 

He hesitated before sending the next message, his thumb hovering over the send button. He sent it anyway.

 

 **Akira** _(10:50)_

I miss you guys.

 

With that, he set his phone down and leaned back against his headboard, absently gazing out the window as he ran his fingers through Morgana’s fur. He could afford to be lazy today as his dad was out on a late case, meaning he wouldn’t be scolded for being in bed for too long. His mother may make a remark, but he knew she wouldn’t be upset with him for it.

 

It was the same cyclical, boring week as it’s been since Akira returned home: wake up, school, come home, homework, dad comes home from a late court case, dinner, bed- the monotony of it was starting to drive Akira insane.

 

He jumped when his phone chimed loudly, and he picked it up with an eyebrow raised as he swiped it open.

 

 **Futaba** _(10:55)_

Oh hey, you’re alive!

 **Futaba** _(10:55)_

The others should be breaking for lunch soon

 

 **Ann** _(10:56)_

We’re done early!

 

 **Makoto** _(10:57)_

I made sure they all studied well in your absence, since we no longer have our encyclopedic leader to help us.

 

 **Ryuuji** _(10:59)_

Akira you left us with a damn slave driver!!

 **Ryuuji** _(10:59)_

like jesus woman do you know what a break is??

 

 **Haru** _(11:00)_

I happen to find her study sessions quite helpful! :D

 

 **Futaba** _(11:01)_

That’s because you’re actually smart enough to keep up with Ms. Study Queen over here

 

(Akira snorted, and Morgana shuffled up to peer over Akira’s arm to watch the messages.)

 

 **Ryuuji** _(11:02)_

you callin’ me dumb?!

 

 **Futaba** _(11:03)_

Yes

 

 **Ryuuji** _(11:04)_

Fight me midget

 

 **Futaba** _(11:05)_

Then go ahead and leave school to where I’m sitting allll comfortable in my quiet bedroom

 

 **Ryuuji** _(11:07)_

...

 **Ryuuji** _(11:07)_

god dammit

 

 **Makoto** _(11:08)_

Guys, behave.

 

 **Futaba** _(11:09)_

Yes mom

 

Akira paused, his smile faltering as he noticed a name missing from the shenanigans.

 

 **Akira** _(11:12)_

Hey, where’s Yusuke?

 **Akira** _(11:12)_

Is he still taking finals?

 

There was an alarmingly long pause, and Akira felt unease bubble in his stomach.

 

 **Akira** _(11:22)_

Hello?

 

 **Futaba** _(11:23)_

So

 **Futaba** _(11:23)_

We won’t be able to see you for another week at least, but we know you miss us all

 **Futaba** _(11:23)_

Especially that little fox of yours

 

 **Makoto** _(11:24)_

Futaba.

 

 **Futaba** _(11:25)_

So we sent you a little present to tide you over until then, okay?

 

_Huh?_

 

 **Akira** _(11:27)_

Um

 **Akira** _(11:27)_

I’m a little confused

 **Akira** _(11:27)_

What about Yusuke? Is he alright?

 

 **Ryuuji** _(11:28)_

guys I told you

 

 **Ann** _(11:29)_

Ryuuji shut up

 

 **Futaba** _(11:30)_

Your present should be arriving right about now, if my predictions are correct

 

 _“Akira!”_ Akira jumped when he heard his mother call for him. _“There’s a young man who says he’s here to see you.”_

 

Akira was only getting more and more confused, from the odd messages to his friends’ secrecy. He looked at Morgana, who only shrugged (as best as a cat could).

 

_“Akira, are you awake?”_

 

He sighed, shucking off his covers and pocketing his phone in his pajama pants. _“I’m coming, Maman,”_ he replied, carefully making his way down the stairs.

 

Scrubbing a hand through his snarled hair, he made his way to the front door. _“Did he say what he wants with me?”_ he asked sleepily, walking up until he was behind his mother, a woman who was a head shorter than him with the same wild dark hair.

 

Looking beyond her shoulder, he froze when he saw the visitor standing on the doorstep, hands wringing nervously, a familiar pair of blue eyes peeking curiously from under dark bangs.

 

Breath hitching for a second, he felt his chest warm from the inside out as he breathed out a surprised _“Yusuke!”_ and Yusuke gave him a shy smile before Akira tackled him into a hug.

 

Breathlessly, Akira tightened his arms around Yusuke’s neck as a happy laugh slipped from his mouth, Yusuke immediately reciprocating as his arms slipped around Akira’s waist, a starburst of warmth sparking behind Akira’s sternum. _He’s here!_

 

“Sorry for the surprise,” Yusuke apologized sheepishly as Akira dropped down back to flat foot, dropping his arms.

 

“What are you doing here?” Akira asked.

 

“My school finished finals a day earlier than Shujin’s, so the rest of the group insisted that I go down ahead before they join me,” Yusuke answered, and Akira realized two things:

 

    1. This was the “gift” that Futaba had been referring to (that realization made his face burn)
    2. __Wait- what does he mean by ‘Join me’?__



 

 

Akira opened his mouth to say something when his mother cleared her throat quietly. Turning to face her, he saw a small smile on her face, his eyes going wide as he realized he’d forgotten just where they were. _“I’m so sorry, Maman,”_ he rushed out in rapid French before gesturing to Yusuke. _“This is Yusuke, one of my good friends from Tokyo,”_ he explained, and understanding broke over her face.

 

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Yusuke,” she said warmly, her words faintly tinged in a soft accent. “I’ve heard quite a bit about you and the rest of your friends.”

 

Yusuke returned the greeting with a smile of his own, the sight of it making fireworks crackle up Akira’s spine. “I apologize for the intrusion, and I think I can explain a bit more of what’s going on if we were all sitting down,” he said hesitantly.

 

Akira’s eyes flicked to his mother, shooting her a quick look, which she responded with a small nod. Akira melted into a relieved smile. “Come on in,” he said, waving him in. Yusuke beamed and followed them in, carrying in a overstuffed duffel bag behind him.

 

Akira told him to leave the bag by the stairs before ushering him to the small bar in the kitchen where Akira’s mother set out a glass of water.

 

All three of them sat down at the bar, Yusuke sitting to Akira’s right while Akira’s mother sat across from them. (Underneath the counter, Akira’s fingers gently nudged at Yusuke’s, who immediately intertwined them with a small smile on his face.) “So, what has the wonder squad set up, then?” Akira asked jokingly, and Yusuke laughed.

 

“A month ago, we all decided to come visit you during the summer break, and so we planned that I was to go down first- which they kept making odd remarks about,” he said, his eyebrows creasing in confusion, and Akira snorted. _Typical._ “Since today is their last day of exams, they’re all going to come down tomorrow to stay the weekend.” Yusuke paused, a flush of panic over his face, turning to Akira’s mother. “Of course, we don’t mean to forcibly impose upon you, if it proves to be inconvenient.”

 

His mother looked surprised, and Akira turned to her. _“Father isn’t going to be here for the weekend, is he?”_ he asked, voice bitterly rhetorical.

 

She gave him a sad smile. _“I’m not sure, but it seems to be the case,”_ she answered. _“I have no problems in having your friends stay over for a weekend, but I’ll ask your father how his case is coming along,”_ she said, before turning back to Yusuke. “I have to make a call to my husband, but please feel free to make yourself at home.” Yusuke nodded as she stood to grab her phone, winding her way into the family room and leaving the two alone.

 

Yusuke gave Akira a concerned look. “Where _is_ your father?” he asked gently.

 

Akira let out a deep breath, turning in  his seat so he was face-to-face with Yusuke. “He works as a defense lawyer, and sometimes the cases he takes can be, well…” Yusuke’s face fell at Akira’s tone, and he tightened his grip on Akira’s fingers.

 

Akira huffed a bitter laugh. “He’s not typically home that much when he takes cases like that.”

 

“Akira-”

 

Akira cut him off as he shook his head. “It’s okay, Yusuke, really,” he said quietly, but his eyes were trained on the seam of his pants.

 

Suddenly, gentle fingers touched under Akira’s chin, forcing him to look at Yusuke. “You took care of me when I self-destructed,” he said, his fingers shifting until they cupped Akira’s cheek. “So please, let me be here for you. After all, that _is_ why we’re all coming down to see you.”

 

Akira leaned into the touch, closing his eyes with a gentle smile tugging at his lips. “I’m glad you’re here,” he breathed, squeezing their intertwined fingers.

 

Yusuke hummed before leaning forward to press a soft kiss to the crown of Akira’s head, his hand dropping from Akira’s face.

 

“Ugh, I forgot how sappy you two can be,” a voice complained, and Akira looked down just in time for Morgana to jump onto Yusuke’s lap, curling up into a ball. Despite his words, Akira could tell the cat was just as happy to see Yusuke again as Akira was.

 

“Mona!” Yusuke chirped happily, scratching under Morgana’s chin and earning a purr from him. “It’s wonderful to see you again!”

 

“Yeah yeah,” he said, tilting his head to let Yusuke scratch at his ears, “I’m just glad you’re here now so this guy’ll stop moping like a lovelorn fool.”

 

Yusuke looked up at Akira, who only tugged at his bangs sheepishly. Yusuke gave him a gentle smile, and Akira pinked.

 

Morgana sighed. “Do you guys actually plan on telling the others you finally _got together_ or what?” he asked, fixing them both with the best impression of a tired glare a cat could give.

 

Akira watched a lovely blush darken Yusuke’s face at Morgana’s bluntness, but before he was able to answer, Akira’s mother came back around the corner, tucking her phone away in her pocket. (Akira swiveled around just enough to keep their linked hands hidden under the surface of the table.) “Akira’s father won’t be able to return for the weekend, so as long as you aren’t too rowdy I have no problem hosting you all,” she said, and both of the boy’s faces lit up in excitement.

 

Simultaneously, they both thanked her, Akira’s a bright _“Thank you, Maman,”_ Yusuke’s a quiet “Thank you, ma’am.”

 

She laughed as they both responded, sitting back down across the bar. She paused before turning to Akira. _“Did you take his luggage upstairs for him?”_ she asked, gesturing to Yusuke.

 

Akira started to shake his head when Yusuke responded. “We left it by the stairs; I didn’t want to bother him into taking it for me,” he answered, apparently not aware of what language the question had been in.

 

Akira wanted to hide his face at Yusuke’s sweet obliviousness, and Akira’s mother was looking at him incredulously.

 

Yusuke looked between them in confusion. “Did I say something wrong?” he asked.

 

Akira’s mother looked at Akira briefly before tilting her head. _“Yusuke, you speak French?”_ she said curiously.

 

Yusuke’s eyes widened as he realized his mistake, shyness creeping back onto his features as he answered. _“My apologies, I should have said something earlier,”_ he apologized, _“but yes, I had to learn it from a young age in order to help with family business.”_

 

Her face brightened at his reply, happy surprise lighting up in her eyes. _“There’s no need to apologize,”_ she placated, _“if anything, it was inappropriate for me to have a conversation without your knowing.”_ Akira bumped his knee into Yusuke’s, making him jump slightly before seeing the look Akira was giving him. _Relax- it’s okay._

 

 _“I must say, you do speak it quite beautifully,”_ she continued, and Yusuke flushed darker at her praise. (Akira hadn’t seen his mother notice the quick exchange between the two, nor the small smile quirking at the corner of her lips as she fit the pieces into place.)

 

“T-thank you, ma’am,” he stuttered and Akira laughed.

 

“Who are you and what have you done to Yusuke Kitagawa?” he teased.

 

Yusuke raised an eyebrow. “I don’t follow.”

 

Akira shook his head, retracting his hand after a quick squeeze to prop his chin on his palm. “You never get flustered when it comes to compliments, and usually tend to be pretty blind to them.”

 

Yusuke tried to reply, only succeeding in tongue-tying himself as he searched for a logical response. _Oh my god, he’s adorable._

 

Akira broke into a grin as he started to laugh again, reaching out to place his hand on Yusuke’s to snap him out of his confusion. “Yusuke, you’re thinking too hard, I’m just teasing,” he forced out between notes of laughter.

 

Yusuke looked between both Kurusus as they both started laughing, Akira’s mother more subtle as she tried to restrain it. Yusuke’s eyes were wide as he watched both them, confusion twisting his features. “Huh?”

 

Akira’s hand tightened around Yusuke’s as Akira laughed even harder at Yusuke’s complete obliviousness, the moment only ending when a loud complaint of “You’re _squishing_ me, dammit!” came from Yusuke’s lap, and a very rumpled Morgana hopped onto the counter. He licked at his paw to try and smooth his ruffled fur while shooting a dirty look at both Yusuke and Akira.

 

Akira’s mom chuckled before running a hand down Morgana’s back. “Why don’t you two take up the luggage?” she nudged gently, and both of them pushed out of their seats before she subtly waved for Akira to come over. Yusuke shot him a look of concern, but he just waved him, mouthing _I’ll be right over._ “I’ll only steal him for a second,” she promised, and Yusuke nodded slowly before disappearing around the corner to the stairs.

 

“Is something wrong, _Maman?”_ Akira asked worriedly. _Does she not like him? What if she-?_

 

She shook her head. _“Is he the artist you told me about? The one who walked in on you talking with me?”_ she asked, voice hushed.

 

It took a moment for the words to register, but they eventually settled in bright red high on Akira’s cheeks. He nodded hesitantly.

 

Strangely, her entire body relaxed, and a happy smile crossed her face. _“I thought so; he’s a good match, and a kind soul from what I’ve seen so far- exactly like you described,”_ she said brightly. _“I like him.”_

 

Akira sighed in relief, unconsciously bringing the fingers that Yusuke had held to his lips in thought, a tiny smile pressing against his skin.

 

 _“_ **_And_ ** _I can tell that_ **_you_ ** _like him and he in return, and nothing makes me happier to know that your heart’s in a safe place,”_ she continued, and Akira’s eyes went wide, hand dropping from his mouth.

 

 _“How…?”_ he asked incredulously, and she gave him a cryptic look.

 

 _“Mothers know best,”_ she answered, giving him a gentle look; Akira felt stripped bare. _“Also, I saw him kiss you before I came around the corner, not to mention that hug you gave him wasn’t a typical hug you give to just a friend.”_

 

Akira paused, opened his mouth, and closed it, deciding to just twist his fingers in his hair.

 

She laughed, the sound bright like champagne bubbles. _“You two are sweet,”_ she said sincerely, and Akira felt a flush of deep-set embarrassment tinged with pride.

 

“More like _gross,”_ Morgana complained. Akira snorted quietly.

 

“Now,” she started, flipping back to Japanese, “don’t leave him waiting because of me!”

 

He nodded, giving her a grateful smile before turning to leave, padding around the corner to find Yusuke standing in front of the framed photos next to the stairs. _Ah, of course he would find those._

 

Walking up behind him, Akira gently placed a hand on Yusuke’s back as to not startle him, leaning forward to look at the photographs. “My mother likes photography,” he explained, tapping at the tiny signature in the corner- _M.K._ “She loves finding the asymmetry of nature and making it balance.”

 

“Her work is incredible,” Yusuke admitted breathlessly, and Akira followed his line of sight to one of her personal favorites- a pair of hands with a huge moth settled in between it, and she had caught it just as one wing was closed, the light and dark of the camouflage seeming to clash. The entire image was set in black and white, the sharp contrast of the wings set off by the color scheme. “Her use of colors and extracting what she needs to highlight the beauty of the image is _stunning.”_

 

“I’m sure she’d be thrilled to hear that,” Akira said warmly.

 

“Speaking of, what were you two talking about? Is everything alright?” Yusuke asked suddenly, worry pulling at the edges of his voice.

 

“No, nothing like that,” Akira answered, and Yusuke’s face relaxed.

 

“Then what was she asking?” Akira paused at the question, and something in his expression made Yusuke’s face fall. “I’m sorry, it was rude of me to pry- you don’t have to tell me,” he rushed out.

 

Akira chewed his lip before replying. “Actually…. Do you remember when you caught me on the phone with my mother one time?”

 

Yusuke knit his eyebrows. “Do you mean the time when you were asking her how to get nail polish out of clothes because you ended up staining a pair of your jeans?”

 

Akira huffed a laugh. “No, not then- when you heard me speaking French for the first time,” he clarified.

 

“Oh! My apologies. Yes, I remember now,” Yusuke said. “You seemed a bit off after the call, however.”

 

Akira sighed. “Yes. That was when I was confiding to her a confusing situation, and you happened to walk in at an inopportune time,” he said, scrunching his nose at his phrasing before continuing. “She was asking for clarification about what I had told her then.”

 

Yusuke tilted his head. “I’m not sure I understand.”

 

Akira sighed before placing his arm on Yusuke’s shoulder. “Yusuke, I was telling her about _you,_ when I first realized I had a crush on you,” he said bluntly.

 

Yusuke paused, body going still in realization. _“Oh.”_

 

“I was a bit scared, to be honest, but I just told her about you, described you to her and in doing so helped unearth just what it was about you that made me fall in love with you.” His words were steady, his voice level, but the depth of what he’d just said felt like he shattered a glacier and he had unearthed its core, a scintillating and blind beauty.

 

Yusuke blinked, his face blank with shock before he trapped Akira in another hug, surprising him as he settled his face in Akira’s collarbone.

 

Instinctively, one of Akira’s hands came up to nestle in Yusuke’s hair while the other pressed into his back. “Yusuke…?” he tried quietly, trying not to shatter the ice further. “Did I say something wr-?”

 

Yusuke _laughed,_ the rich sound more mellifluous than any ocean current, and if he hadn’t already fallen than Akira would have been swept away by it. “To think you would have found beauty in a creature who simply chases it,” Yusuke said into Akira’s shoulder.

 

Akira smiled breathlessly, tightening his grip before pressing a kiss into Yusuke’s hair. “You know beauty is in the eye of the beholder,” he whispered as Yusuke pulled himself back up, leaning forward to brush a kiss under Akira’s eye.

 

“Ugh, _seriously,_ he’s only been here for fifteen minutes and it’s _sap sap sap_ ,” Morgana complained as he wound around the corner, rubbing against Akira’s leg.

 

Akira chuckled and leaned down to scoop the cat up, pressing a goofy kiss between his ears. “Feeling left out, Mona?” he joked, and Morgana shot him a glare.

 

“I’m not your _boyfriend,_ Joker, so you don’t need to smother me in affection,” Morgana quipped, jaded, but unsurprisingly had no qualms about being picked up. (Akira ignored how the word _boyfriend_ made sparks burn in his stomach.)

 

 _He’s just jealous,_ Akira mouthed to Yusuke, who failed to smother a laugh. Morgana’s ears went flat in annoyance.

 

Akira nodded toward the stairs, shifting Morgana up to his shoulder. “Come on, let’s get your stuff up to my room,” he suggested, leaning down to grab Yusuke’s bag before heading up the stairs.

 

As he pushed the door open and crossed the room to drop the bag on his bed, he turned to see Yusuke fixating on the ceiling, his eyes going wide. “You kept them,” he whispered, voice blurry in surprise.

 

Smiling, Akira tucked his hands into his pockets and tipped his head back, looking up to see the glittering swath of glow-in-the-dark stars Yusuke had given him long ago. “Of course I did,” he said warmly.

 

Akira watched as Morgana jumped up onto the windowsill of the open window, curling up so his tail flicked like a lazy pendulum in the summer heat.

 

Yusuke turned to examine the rest of Akira’s room, eyes catching on the familiar spots of old gifts and knick knacks from the Leblanc attic, finally turning back to face Akira. “I must say, your room _is_ rather spacious,” he noted, his words impressed.

 

Akira raised his eyebrows. “I guess you’re right,” he agreed, the thought never having crossed his mind before.

 

Yusuke suddenly started, nearly making Akira flinch. “I nearly forgot- I need to notify the others that I’ve arrived,” he announced, and Akira realized his phone was still in his pocket.

 

“Come here, I think I’ve got an idea,” Akira said, a faint coyness playing at his words as he waved Yusuke over.

 

Despite being confused, Yusuke still complied, peering over Akira’s shoulder as he pulled his phone from his pocket. “Now, smile,” Akira ordered, snapping a picture that ended up as a brightly smiling Akira and an adorably perplexed Yusuke behind him.

 

He promptly sent the picture despite Yusuke’s complaints that he wasn’t ready.

 

 **Akira** _(11:47)_

_IMAGE SENT_

**Akira** _(11:47)_

Thanks for the present, guys, I love it

 

_“Akira!”_

 

 **Akira** _(11:48)_

And yes, you’re all allowed to stay over for a massive sleepover this weekend, as long as you’re on your best behavior.

 

 **Futaba** _(11:49)_

AW HELL YEAH

 **Futaba** _(11:49)_

wait

 **Futaba** _(11:50)_

I think I’m the only one here now

 

 **Akira** _(11:51)_

Well, they’ll see the message when they get the chance.

 **Akira** _(11:51)_

You guys better bring a bunch of blankets and sleeping bags, ‘cause it’s going to essentially be all of us crammed into my room

 

 **Futaba** _(11:52)_

Crammed into your room, you say?

 **Futaba** _(11:52)_

I’m sure Inari’ll have no problems with that

 

Akira heard a faint splutter from behind him.

 

 **Yusuke** _(11:53)_

That’s entirely inappropriate, Futaba.

 **Yusuke** _(11:53)_

And I’ll have you know that Akira’s room is actually rather large, so there should be no problem with us all fitting.

 

 **Futaba** _(11:55)_

Dude

 **Futaba** _(11:55)_

Aren’t you like

 **Futaba** _(11:56)_

Literally right next to Akira right now

 

 **Yusuke** _(11:57)_

I’m not sure I’m getting what you’re saying.

 **Yusuke** _(11:57)_

I’m speaking to you, who is not present, so is it not appropriate for me to message you through here?

 

 **Futaba** _(11:58)_

Never mind

 **Futaba** _(11:58)_

Just enjoy your alone time, ya lovebirds

 

Akira watched as Yusuke’s face went red at the message, and leaned over to grab his phone before Yusuke could try and type out a reply. “There’s a place by the beach just down the road I think you might like, so why don’t we try heading over there for the afternoon?” he suggested, and Yusuke’s face lit up.

 

“How about you try getting dressed first?” Morgana drawled from his seat, and Akira looked down at his bright plaid pants with dawning horror. _Oh, yeah._

 

“Give me a minute?” Akira asked sheepishly, and Yusuke huffed a quiet laugh.

 

“Of course, Akira,” he replied. “After all, I’ll need a bit to gather my supplies.”

 

Akira shot him a grateful smile as made his way to his dresser, tugging his shirt over his head as he started to rummage for a new one.

 

(Eventually he’d managed to pull together a decent outfit, and had turned to see Yusuke with a sketchbook open in his lap and a pen in his hand, but both were still as Yusuke’s eyes had been trained on Akira. “I’m sorry, I got a bit... distracted,” he said, giving Akira a sheepish smile as he glanced down at his paper, spinning his pen absently.

 

When Akira walked over to investigate, all he’d seen were messy sketches of Akira’s back in different positions as he changed, the lines sinuous and sharp as they stood out against the paper.

_Wow, I…_

 

Akira had been too dumbfounded to reply, and Morgana let out a _loud_ sound of displeasure to let them know how he felt about the situation.)

 

After calling out a quick update to his mother, Akira shepherded Yusuke out of the house and down the road until they reached a small section of beach, both of them sitting down on the dunes as they took in the scenery around them- serene, quiet, alone, but not lonely.

 

They stayed there for so long that time turned to sand, and they watched as the water turned from diamond blue, to fiery red, to fathomless indigo as it swallowed the sunset; Yusuke’s hands were smudged in charcoal and bright paints as he melted the world around them until it was smeared across his notebook in gorgeous shades of swirling colors. Akira was content with just watching Yusuke, leaning against his side as the wind wound around them both, carrying the scent of salt and sand.

 

At one point, Yusuke had paused to examine his lines, scrutinizing the edges of his water in mounting frustration when Akira just silently reached for his hand and pressed a gentle kiss to his paint-stained knuckles, not minding the taste of the paint when he felt the tension ease from Yusuke’s body at the action.

 

He’d given him a grateful smile, a silent thank you before returning to his work, the sharp edge he’d had earlier replaced with even and languorous strokes.

 

Upon returning home later that night, they both retreated to Akira’s room after a quick good night to his mother, and the sleepy summer night left them both asleep soundly, pressed together back to chest in Akira’s bed in the drowsy heat, their dreams guarded by the glittering lights of glow-in-the-dark stars and the white-tipped swish of a tail.

 

(Despite the bonds having been evaporated, Akira swore he could still feel Yusuke’s heartbeat thrumming in the mark above his own heart, the numbness of routine shattered as he felt arms tighten around him, a quiet, humming reminder that _he was here, my heart’s finally home.)_

 

\---

 

The next morning was a lazy one, as Akira’s mother had let them sleep in before the chaos that is their friends joined them. (Akira had been reluctant to get out of bed and ruin the perfect moment of warmth that they’d created, but alas- nature still calls.) While the boys and Morgana lazily trekked downstairs to eat, Akira’s mother told them she was going grocery shopping for dinner and left them to their own devices, which in the end was all three of them quietly relaxing on the couch as they waited.

 

 **Haru** _(2:06)_

We’re on our way!

 **Haru** _(2:06)_

I’m so excited for us to all get together again! :)

 

 **Ann** _(2:07)_

I’m sure it’s going to be as much fun as it will be chaotic…

 

 **Ryuuji** _(2:08)_

aw c’mon

 **Ryuuji** _(2:08)_

don’t be a party pooper Ann

 

 **Futaba** _(2:08)_

I’m just excited to see Akira’s house honestly

 **Futaba** _(2:09)_

Like I know we saw it when we dropped him off and it was HUGE

 **Futaba** _(2:09)_

But we didn’t like, get to go IN it

 

 **Makoto** _(2:10)_

It’ll be nice to see his face again after so long!

 **Makoto** _(2:10)_

And Futaba, I’m not sure what you’re planning in bringing along those firecrackers, but please remember that we’re going to be guests here.

 

 **Ryuuji** _(2:11)_

it’s summer!! Ya gotta have the fireworks

 **Ryuuji** _(2:11)_

or firecrackers

 **Ryuuji** ( _2:12)_

whatever

 

 **Futaba** _(2:12)_

I agree with bottle blondie

 

 **Ann** _(2:12)_

Futaba oh my god

 

 **Ryuuji** _(2:13)_

I’m sorry

 **Ryuuji** _(2:14)_

do you still want to fight me?

 **Ryuuji** _(2:14)_

we’re going to be in the same car for three hours this time

 

 **Futaba** _(2:14)_

Meet me in the fucking pit skull candy

 

 **Ryuuji** _(2:15)_

oh it is oN

 

 **Haru** _(2:15)_

Please don’t fight each other on our way to see Akira…

 

 **Ann** _(2:15)_

Yeah, I’m not sure his parents would let us in with two of you covered in blood

 

 **Futaba** _(2:16)_

damn

 **Futaba** _(2:16)_

true

 

 **Makoto** _(2:17)_

Hey, has anyone noticed that neither of them as responded?

 

 **Ann** _(2:17)_

You mean Akira and Yusuke?

 

 **Futaba** _(2:18)_

Maybe they’re

 **Futaba** _(2:19)_

MAKIN’ OUT

 

 **Ryuuji** ( _2:19)_

gross

 

 **Futaba** _(2:20)_

No but seriously

 **Futaba** _(2:20)_

Maybe they’re dead

 **Futaba** _(2:21)_

YO WE’RE ALMOST AT YOUR HOUSE

 **Futaba** _(2:21)_

YOU GUYS DEAD

 

 **Makoto** _(2:21)_

Futaba!

 

 **Ryuuji** _(2:22)_

helloooooooooooo

 

 **Ann** _(2:22)_

You guys there?

 

(The texts went unanswered, however.)

 

Later, a van packed with mismatched teenagers pulled into the driveway of the Kurusu house, pulling up alongside another car, a woman pulling bags of groceries from the trunk. Upon noticing them, she waved and walked over to them. “I take it you’re the rest of Akira’s friends?” she asked warmly.

 

“Yeah!” Ryuuji, sliding the door of the van shut, chimed in. “Where is he, anyway?”

 

“He wasn’t responding to us when we were texting him on the way down,” Ann added. “And neither was Yusuke.”

 

A small smile quirked her lips, something cryptic in its lines. “The boys had just woken up when I left, so I’m not sure what they’re up to now,” she answered. “Why don’t you come on in? I’m sure you’d much rather see them than stand around talking to me.”

 

With that, the herd of people and luggage funneled into the front door of the house.

 

\---

 

Akira was roused from his nap when the low buzz of conversation ruined the quiet air of the house. Blearily blinking his eyes open, reality and realization slowly melted back into being as he remembered where he was: all three of them had ended up falling asleep on the couch, Akira between Yusuke’s legs as he leaned back against his chest, Morgana curled up in Akira’s lap. Yusuke had been reading before he fell asleep, his book now abandoned on the top of the couch. (Summer heat had a tendency to wind its way into your bones and heart, drawing sleepy breath from your lungs to nestle into your loved ones until you melt into each other’s empty spaces and cracks in one massive mural.)

 

 _Oh, they must finally be here,_ Akira realized slowly as the familiar colors of his friends came into focus, their voices filtering through his lethargy. Leaning back, he saw that Yusuke was still asleep, and Akira smiled at the gentle peacefulness on his features, and carefully reached up to tap him on the chest. _“Yusuke, mon coeur, wake up,”_ he mumbled, his shifting waking up Morgana as Akira lifted his other hand to rub at his eyes.

 

Yusuke muttered under his breath and scrunched his nose, but didn’t wake. _“Come on, the others are here, wake up,”_ he urged, smiling when Yusuke sucked in a huge breath as his eyes slowly opened.

 

 _“They’re here already?”_ Yusuke asked sleepily.

 

Akira sat up, careful not to squish Morgana as he reached for his phone next to him on the floor, eyes widening when he saw the number of texts along with the time. He barked a laugh then, crossing his feet under his legs. _“We’ve been asleep for two hours,”_ he explained, holding his phone over his shoulder for Yusuke to see.

 

“There they are!” Ann crowed as the rest of the group made their way into the family room, Akira’s mother crossing into the kitchen with a small smile on her face.

 

“Were you guys dead or... somethin’?” Ryuuji added, before pausing as he saw the two. The others had similar reactions as they found the sleepy couple tangled in each other.

 

“I’m afraid we fell asleep for a lot longer than we intended to,” Yusuke said as Akira stretched, Morgana hopping up onto the top of the couch.

 

Akira snorted before hearing a sound from the kitchen, craning his head in confusion. _“Maman, are you home?”_ he called, and she leaned over the bar, a sly smile on his face.

 

 _“Of course I am,”_ she answered before gesturing to the others. _“Do you think they just managed to come in by themselves?”_

 

He raised an eyebrow at her sarcasm as Yusuke chuckled behind him. Akira gave him a look before standing, stretching his back. “I’ll introduce you in a second,” he told them, before a beaming smile lit up his face. “It’s nice to see you all again.”

 

“Yeah!” Ryuuji burst out, slinging an arm over Akira’s shoulder and giving him a friendly slug in the arm. One by one with matching smiles they all greeted Akira- a happy hug (Ann), a shy, bright laugh (Haru), and a gentle touch to the shoulder and a warm greeting (Makoto). (Akira’s mother made her way into the kitchen to stand by Yusuke, watching as they all engulfed Akira in affection long overdue.)

 

Amidst the mass greeting and dizzying words, Akira paused, a confused look twisting his features. “Where’s Futaba?” he suddenly asked. “She came along too, right?”

 

As if in answer to his question, a shriek split the air as a small body collided into Akira hard enough to make him stumble as wiry arms and legs wrapped around him, a face burrowing into his neck.

 

“Holy-” Ryuuji choked as Akira regained his balance.

 

“I missed you _so much,_ Akira!” Futaba whined into his shirt, grip tightening as if she was afraid he would disappear any second. “Leblanc’s been so quiet and _boring_ since you left!”

 

Akira smiled, placing a hand on the crown of her head. “I missed you too, Futaba,” he said warmly, and her head lifted up to give him a huge grin, her glasses askew.

 

Futaba carefully extricated herself from him, arms hooking around his elbow the minute her feet reached the floor, the action both relieved as it was possessive. _Like a sister I haven’t seen in ages,_ Akira thought. “Let me start the introductions,” he said, turning toward his mother before describing each of them to her in fluid French, hands jumping forward to bring each person forward to her. (He could feel them ogling him as he switched effortlessly from each person, soaking in the unfamiliar sounds that poured from his tongue like liquid inks.)

 

“It’s wonderful to finally meet the rest of you,” she replied, bowing slightly to them once Akira finished. “Though I’ve heard a lot about you, there’s nothing quite like talking to you face to face.”

 

Surprised, they looked between Akira and his mother before Ann spoke up. “I guess we know where Akira got his politeness and charm from,” she noted, and Akira’s mother smiled.

 

“You’re too kind,” she said, smile widening as Akira rubbed at the back of his neck in embarrassment.

 

“If you don’t mind my asking, where is your husband?” Makoto spoke up, and both of their expressions faltered.

 

“He’s busy with work at the moment and won’t be home for the weekend,” she answered, the reply even, practiced, level, and somewhat stiff. (Yusuke’s eyes widened at her reply, and Akira saw him glance briefly over to him in concern.)

 

“Ah, I see,” Makoto replied, cheeks flushed slightly at the tone of the rely. “I’m sorry for being rude.”

 

Akira’s mother shook her head, waving her off. “There’s no need to apologize, it’s quite alright,” she placated. “How about you all get settled up in Akira’s room before I get prepared for dinner?”

 

“Yeah! I wanna see this so-called ‘spacious bedroom’ of his,” Futaba chirped, and Akira looked down at her in response to her comment, an eyebrow raised high.

 

“Well, I guess we should get everything set up,” Akira said, and nodded toward the stairs. “Come on, let’s all head up so we can get out of my mother’s way.”

 

“Alright!” Ryuuji yelled in Akira’s ear, making him wince.

 

Akira herded them all toward the stairs as they babbled to each other, laughing when he heard a mutter of “Why is this house so freakin’ huge?” Before he was able to follow them, his mother tapped him on the shoulder and whispered a quiet _“I saw you two asleep as I came in; it was really sweet,”_ that made him flush, not to mention the addition of her hearing when Akira had casually called Yusuke _“My heart”_ on the brink of waking up. (Needless to say, Akira was a funny shade of magenta when he met the others in his room.)

 

Upon finally walking in, he was met with a “Well I’ll be damned, this _is_ a pretty big room,” from Futaba, and entered to find a haphazard pile of luggage by the door and people spread everywhere.

 

“It is a rather large room, not to mention the rest of the house as well,” Haru noted, petting Morgana from his perch on the window.

 

“It reminds me more of a European house than a Japanese home, or perhaps a mix of the two,” Makoto added from her spot next to Ann as they looked through the photos Akira had on his desk.

 

“It reminds me a bit of the smaller houses I saw while I was in America,” Ann hummed, pointing at one of the pictures of Akira with his parents when he was younger.

 

Akira, with his hands in his pockets, walked over to the picture she was looking at. “My dad wanted a smaller house closer to the normal Japanese style, but my mother bargained for the more open style that she was used to, and so we ended up with this,” he said, making the girls jump.

 

“Akira, you can’t just _show up_ like that out of nowhere!” Ann complained, her hand pressed to her chest.

 

Akira shrugged in apology, and Ann just rolled her eyes.

 

Eventually, with Akira’s direction and some mild shenanigans (read: pillow chucking and a giant stuffed frog going missing), they were all able to unpack to some semblance of readiness that ended up mostly as a giant nest of pillows, sleeping bags, and assorted blankets strewn about the floor.

 

Halfway through, however, as Ann and Makoto were wrestling with a poorly-tied sleeping bag, Futaba had spun around to face Yusuke with a confused expression on her face. “Hey, Inari, where’s all your stuff? Didja sleep downstairs or somethin’?” she asked, hands clasped behind her.

 

Yusuke knit his eyebrows. “Of course not; I slept with Akira, ” he answered matter-of factly, and multiple things happened simultaneously:

 

The sleeping bag the girls were fighting with sprang open despite them gaping at Yusuke,

Ryuuji made an odd choking noise,

Futaba’s face went from shock to utter _elation_ as an evil grin crawled over her face,

Haru looked between Akira and Yusuke in confusion,

and Akira slapped a hand over his face.

 

“Wait- you _what?”_ Ryuuji finally spit out, just as Futaba cheered a loud “You _finally_ did it! Er, well _him,”_ which earned a glare from Makoto.

 

“Are you telling me that you two…?” Ann started, gesturing between them before trailing off.

 

Yusuke was only becoming increasingly confused while Akira was waving frantically, his normally picturesque composure shattered by his cherry red face.

 

“I’m not sure what I said to cause such a reaction,” Yusuke said, and Akira placed a hand on his shoulder to keep him from replying.

 

“We happened to _share the bed_ last night, and there was nothing _inappropriate_ that happened,” Akira answered levelly, and he watched as the gears clicked in everyone’s heads.

 

Yusuke looked at Akira, eyebrows still narrowed. “Of course nothing inappropriate occurred,” he reiterated, “why would you need to emphasize that?”

 

_Clueless, straight-forward Yusuke._

 

“So… you two still slept together, like, same bed-wise?” Futaba asked, teeth flashing in a wicked grin.

 

Yusuke nodded. Akira saw questions and understandings and other realizations paint their faces, and he could read the un-phrasable question sitting on each of their tongues: _did they actually get together?_

 

Akira found his resolve in a question shouted from downstairs to interrupt the wave of interrogation- “Hey, may I have some helping hands down here?” his mother called, which broke the air enough for Akira to steel himself for a microsecond before breaking the tension with a simple action-

 

He tugged on Yusuke’s sleeve enough to pull him down and press a quick kiss to his lips (he felt Yusuke’s breath hiss in surprise against Akira’s mouth) before dropping back down, slipping his hands in his pockets, gauging the other’s reactions (Yusuke hissed a surprised _“Akira!”,_ pressing his fingers to his lips as a blush swept across his face and down into the collar of his shirt), and then promptly fleeing from his room.

 

 _“I fucking knew it!”_ Akira heard Futaba shriek in victory, and Ann fired back with an “I think _everyone_ knew at this point,” which made Akira smile shyly as he shuffled into the kitchen.

 

His mother, standing over a steaming pot, fixed him with a curious look as he came in. _“Are you alright, Akira? You look a bit flushed,”_ she said.

 

Akira paused before responding, weighing his words carefully. “I think I may have just come out to my friends,” he finally decided, his words even but still tinged with slight embarrassment and equal disbelief.

 

His mother’s eyes lit up with a happy laugh before Futaba- dragging a very flustered Yusuke behind her- came traipsing down the stairs to join them. “You said you needed help, so I decided to take pity upon poor Inari and evacuate him,” she said cheekily as Yusuke started spluttering.

 

Akira bit back a smile at his reaction as his mother raised an eyebrow. “What did you _do_ to the poor boy?” she asked, and Futaba jumped on it.

 

“He kissed that boy _right on the lips_ and broke him,” she chirped, and his mother laughed in surprise.

 

“How about you two go chop the vegetables while- Futaba, was it?- helps me with the broth?” she suggested, gesturing toward the pile of freshly cleaned vegetables by the sink.

 

Gently nudging Yusuke toward the bar, Akira scooped up the vegetables onto a cutting board and swiped two knives from the block, weaving around Futaba before setting everything down next to Yusuke, sitting down next to him before starting off with the mushrooms. _“Are you alright, Yusuke?”_ he asked quietly, his words lilting gently in concerned French.

 

Yusuke nodded, eyes trained on his hands in an effort not to cut himself. _“A bit startled, perhaps, but I’m quite alright,”_ he replied, and Akira felt his body relax at his response. _I’m glad he isn’t upset._

 

 _“I didn’t mean to put you on the spot like that,”_ Akira continued, heart twinging in guilt.

 

Yusuke waved him off. _“It’s_ **_alright,_ ** _Akira,”_ he insisted, and Akira smiled at his words.

 

Akira’s mother watched them from the corner of her eye just as Futaba burst out with a loud “What’re you two sayin’ over there?”

 

“Nothing important, Futaba,” Akira called nonchalantly, shoveling the mushrooms into a neat pile as Yusuke started on the onions.

 

Futaba snorted. “My _ass,”_ she muttered, and Akira’s mother chuckled at her profanity.

 

The rest of dinner was prepared without any mishaps, and soon the rest were called down to spread out amongst the kitchen bar and couch. The windows were opened and the gentle sea breeze mingled with the happy chatter as the warm afternoon light streamed in.

 

Haru and Makoto sat with their backs to the bar, Ann and Ryuuji (plus Morgana curled up on the table trying to swipe some of Ryuuji’s beef) on the floor at the family room table, and Yusuke, Akira, and Futaba mushed together on the couch (Akira was leaning into Yusuke, both stealing bites of the other’s food from time to time). Akira’s mother was perched on the edge of the couch, watching as they all interacted and bickered and _thrived_ with each other, like one huge functioning heart, a smile bright on her face.

 

Happy, warm, all nestled together like a big family- Akira loved it, and felt a bubbling warmth behind his breastbone.

 

_I wish my house was always this warm._

_Ah, well, I’ll always have them as bright points in my life, like stars to light the bitter nights._

 

\---

After dinner and a big clean up that ended up with multiple dishes on the floor, the kids eventually all headed back up to Akira’s room after bidding his mother goodnight. Eventually, they each filtered out to the bathroom to change into nightclothes, but there was an odd silence that stretched between them that made Akira uneasy. _They all seemed fine during dinner.... Right?_

 

Said silence was finally broken when Ann plopped down on her blankets, arms crossed as she blew a strand of hair out of her face. “So, how long?” she asked, directing the question to Akira.

 

Akira raised an eyebrow. “How long what?”

 

She flapped an arm toward the door just as Ryuuji wandered back in, pointing at himself in a confused manner that Ann ignored. “Y’know, how long have you two been _dating?_ It’s not as if you up and told us,” she clarified.

 

“I mean, we all had our suspicions, but we weren’t actually _sure,”_ Ryuuji chimed in, swiping what looked to be the giant stuffed red-eyed tree frog Futaba had been looking for and tucking it into his lap, elbows atop its head. “Well, ‘cept Futaba for some reason, but that’s just cause she’s a nut.”

 

“Careful, you might not want to let her hear that,” Akira warned, folding his feet under his legs.

 

Ann clicked her tongue. “You avoided the question!” she complained, and Akira sighed.

 

“Only since the day after he got out of the hospital,” he answered. The memory of that night left him with the mixed echo of a screaming storm and a warm heartbeat against his back.

 

Both Ryuuji and Ann looked at Akira in surprise. “That long?” Ann asked, and Akira nodded.

 

Makoto walked in next, catching Akira’s eye for an explanation before settling down to join the rest of them. “What’s going on?”

 

“Akira’s tellin’ us about he and Yusuke started goin’ out,” Ryuuji answered bluntly. Hearing the words so blatantly put from his mouth made Akira’s ears burn.

 

“Ah, I see,” she hummed as tugged her blanket toward her to wrap around her waist. “How is it?” she added.

 

“I- sorry?” Akira asked, puzzled. _This is… strangely casual._

 

“Your relationship with Yusuke,” she said, “how is it?”

 

Akira gave her an odd look at the question. “It’s fine, I believe,” he said.

 

“Ugh, you guys are lucky you only learned about it _now,”_ Morgana called, voice bitter with distaste. “Those two are so sugar-sweet it makes my damn teeth rot.”

 

Akira could feel his face burn as they turned to him in varying shades of shock and amusement.

 

“Like honestly, I can’t remember the last time I saw them sleep in separate beds, and all the _hand-holding_ and the _French,_ oh my _god-”_ Morgana continued, only to be cut off when Akira hissed an embarrassed _“Mona!”_ his way.

 

The others burst into laughter, the sound apparently summoning Futaba and Haru a few seconds later as they came to investigate the sound, Futaba narrowing in on the frog in Ryuuji’s grasp and charging him, screeching a half-intelligible _“You still want to meet me in the fucking pit?!”_ as she knocked him to the ground.

 

“Well, as long as you two are happy, that’s all that really matters,” Makoto finally said when everyone finally calmed down, Ryuuji flat on his back as he clutched his stomach groaning, Futaba glaring at him with her stolen frog back in her lap as she stroked it menacingly.

 

Akira nodded dumbly again, heat finally settling at the tips of his ears and the back of his neck, tingling enough to make him rub the nape of it as if to will it away.

 

“Yeah, we’re all chill with you two datin’ and all that,” Ryuuji wheezed as he sat up, shooting Futaba a dark look only to earn a villainous grin in return.

 

“You’re cute together as it is, and it’s so heart-warming to see,” Haru added brightly, the poor girl more fluffy layers of long-sleeves and socks than skin.

 

Akira made a strangled noise in the back of his throat, but the happy light behind his sternum was unmistakeable, its warmth drawing a shy smile to his face. _They’re happy- they’re fine._ “Thank you, honestly,” he said quietly, fingers drawing absent circles on his knee. “It’s just… he means _so much_ to me,” he added almost silently, eyes dropping to where his fingers were tracing his pants.

 

Futaba snorted. “Well, we _all_ saw that after the whole Mementos incident, and I’m not surprised Inari was a bit blinder to it than most,” she said, words dry and sarcastic but somehow still caring.

 

The smile on Akira’s face only widened as the red at his neck spread up to his cheeks.

 

Speak of the devil, and the very subject made his way back into the Akira’s room, pausing in confusion at the horribly _knowing_ looks paired with Akira’s flustered expression. “Did I miss something important?” Yusuke asked, still entirely oblivious.

 

Futaba’s lips spread into a wicked smile. “Akira was telling us just how much he _looooves_ you,” she teased, and Yusuke’s eyebrows narrowed as pink tinged his cheekbones.

 

Akira just buried his face in his hands.

 

\---

 

After that _‘incident’,_ they’d all decided on watching a horror movie as the night started to settle in the windows, all bunking down together as the scenes played on the screen of Akira’s old television from his time at Leblanc.

 

With the lights off and the scenes blaring through the darkness of his room, their varying levels of fear and entrancement of the plot leaving them nestled together: Haru, bound in her sleeping bag and numerous blankets, was tangled together with Makoto in her massive blanket as they both gasped and shrieked; Ryuuji was clutching onto Ann as she pretended not to be frightened; Futaba was swaddled in her sleeping bag with her frog in her lap and Morgana tucked next to her legs as she leaned her back against Akira’s bed, throwing the firecracker bangers she’d brought with her at the most opportune moment to earn a scream from one of the others, seemingly impervious to the murderous serial killer on the screen; Akira was lying with his head in Yusuke’s lap atop his bed as he cheered on the villain with Futaba, Yusuke disturbingly interested in the cinematic effects of the violent murder as his fingers absently ran through Akira’s hair.

 

As the movie rolled, they were all spell-bound by the story as one unit, one heart, truly a giant family despite Ryuuji trying to smack Futaba for beaning him with a banger and making him shriek or Yusuke’s untimely and unintentionally inappropriate commentary (“Is it necessary for the heroine to be almost naked in all of the scenes?” “What is the purpose of running upstairs instead of out the open front door?”); all so domestic, _normal-_ it made Akira’s chest ache pleasantly as he remembered that they were all still just teenagers. (Moments like these made him miss Arsène’s voice at the back of his mind, but Akira knew that the cunning smile of the thief was still burned somewhere deep in his heart.)

 

After a riveting and pulse-pounding hour and a half later and everyone had managed to fall asleep spare Akira, who gently extricated himself from Yusuke’s grip as he stepped around everyone to turn off the TV, its light evaporating and dyeing everyone and everything a summer night-stained indigo that hummed lazily in Akira’s bones, a pounding and enticing rhythm of _sleep sleep sleep._

 

Carefully, he climbed back into bed and felt his heart jump as warm arms tightened around him, Yusuke’s body melting into Akira’s. _“Come on, love, it’s late; you best sleep now,”_ Yusuke murmured sleepily into Akira’s ear.

 

Akira chuckled quietly, turning his head to press a kiss to Yusuke’s cheek. _“I know,”_ he whispered back, reaching down to tug his comforter over them both. “Good night, Yusuke.”

 

Akira felt a faint smile curve against his back. “Sleep well, Akira.”

 

As if in an afterthought, an automatic and immediate response so natural, Akira felt himself faintly mutter those words before feeling his eyes droop and slip shut.

 

In the dark of that bedroom, half-frozen in surprise, Yusuke Kitagawa felt as if his chest was filled fit to burst with the song of birds, of a summer wind, of _sun,_ and he couldn’t help the blinding smile that tugged at his lips despite the exhaustion that sapped at his mind.

 

_“I love you too, Akira.”_

 

_\---_

 

The next morning:

 

“Oh god, why’s the sun gotta be so damn _bright?”_

 

“Ryuuji, _shut up,_ and get your damn foot out of my _face.”_

 

“Not _my fault_ you ended up stealing everyone’s blankets and tangling my foot in the process, Ann!”

 

“Is _that_ why I was so cold last night?”

 

“Ah, that may explain why I woke up to find you glued to my side, Haru.”

 

“My apologies, Makoto.”

 

“No need to apologize, it’s quite alright.”

 

“Hey. Hey guys.”

 

“What is it, Futaba?”

 

_“I have an idea.”_

 

“If it’s comin’ outta _your_ mouth then it can’t _possibly_ be good.”

 

“My offer does still stand, _Skeletor.”_

 

“Futaba, are you _trying_ to get smacked?”

 

“Nah, ‘s not as if he’ll be able to catch me with those bow-legs of his.”

 

_“What was that-?”_

 

 _“Anyway,_ I still have some bangers left- think I should use ‘em on the sleeping couple?”

 

“I really don’t think that would be a good idea.”

 

“Too late!”

 

(A loud pop on the wall just by the headboard, and a half-contained noise of shock.)

 

“Wha’? What was that sound?”

 

“Now _that’s_ a major case of bed-head, oh my god...”

 

“Wait wait wait- Akira, where’s your _shirt?”_

 

“My what?”

 

“Holy _shit,_ don’t tell me you guys got down and dirty while we were still in the room!”

 

“Futaba, oh my _god-”_

 

“What’s with all the commotion?”

 

“Yusuke, did you and Akira actually- _ow!_ Hey, that hurt!”

 

“Pillows don’t hurt _that_ badly!”

 

“Do _not_ make me chuck this frog at you.”

 

“I’d like to see you- _shit,_ are those eyes made of fuckin’ _glass_ or somethin’?”

 

 _“Ignoring_ the dipshit, what happened to your shirt?”

 

“I… got hot? It was warm last night, so I took it off.”

 

“Sounds fishy to me.”

 

“I agree with Ann- it was freaking _cold_ in here!”

 

“I’m inclined to agree, though Akira does prove to be a rather pleasant source of warmth, a bit like a space heater.”

 

_“Yusuke-!”_

 

“Ew, no, you guys are already gross and you’ve barely been awake for a minute- I’m going to go outside and wander around.”

 

“Not if I catch you first, Mona!”

 

(Morgana was pounced on by a victorious Futaba, who ended up cradling him to her chest as he whined loudly at her, the others loudly laughing at his displeasure.

 

Quiet, normal, human;

Peaceful, serene, safe-

_Warm._

Where Akira’s heart was safe in the hands of the people around him, a shard of it held in the heart of another.

Here, he was happy,

Here, he was finally _home.)_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another title for this chapter was also "RIP Yusuke Kitagawa 2017"...  
> (Also I dunno how he got down to Akira's he probably took a bus or somethin' I dunno)  
> Thank you again for sticking through with me, and I hope you enjoyed the fluff!  
> Please feel free to ask any questions, or shoot me an ask at my tumblr of the same username! Thank you all again!! :D

**Author's Note:**

> Please let me know how pacing feels!!


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